The Truth of the Game
by Gemmi92
Summary: The wife of Ramsay Snow escaped her life of despair only to find herself in Winterfell, slowly falling for the one they would come to call the King in the North. It was only when the war of the Seven Kingdoms commenced did the threat of the Boltons begin to plague her. Robb/OC/Ramsay
1. Chapter 1

There was something about feasts which bored Robb Stark. He played a good part, laughing and joking whilst he sat next to Theon, both of them discussing the antics of the King. It had been a long day with Robb being told what to do by his mother in order for the King's arrival. Robb doubted the King even cared; he seemed too interested in chasing the serving maids around.

Robb laughed as Theon said something about the taste of the wine they drunk. It was only when Robb turned his head over his shoulder did he see a sight which caused his laughter to die down. His lips remained pulled up for a few moments and then set in a firm line.

"Ah," Theon drawled once he turned his gaze in the direction of Robb's orbs. He grinned and slapped his friend on the back, his hand causing Robb to look away from the direction of the King and the serving wench who he was groping at.

"You need to be a bit more discreet," he warned Robb. "You're staring at her as if you own her."

Robb did his best to stop peering over his shoulder, his hand moving to pick up a piece of meat which sat on his plate. He could scarcely leave her be in the King's grip. Robb had heard tales from his father of how King Robert was whoring his way into an early grave.

"I fear no one could own her," Robb scoffed back, his voice low.

Robb's eyes remained set on the plate beneath his chin, Theon still staring at him with intrigue.

"You need to be careful," Theon urged his friend. "She is a serving wench...not someone who should hold your affections."

Robb turned his eyes upwards, a brow arching as he did so. "And do you intend to tell anyone?"

Theon snorted; "You know that is not my intention. You are my friend, Robb. I was just telling you to be careful, that was all."

Robb nodded, knowing full well that Theon had been right in his statement. Robb heard a sudden shrill laugh and he looked behind him again, noting that the maid had escaped the King's grip, but his mother was looking at him sternly. Her chin motioned to his youngest sister who sat on a table alone before he saw Sansa being fussed over as a stain ruined her dress.

"I think she needs taking to bed," Theon said and he picked his goblet up again, downing the alcohol within it.

"And do you intend to keep me company on my way?" Robb wandered, moving to stand from the bench he sat on.

Robb moved over to his little sister, picking her up under the arms as she continued to laugh lightly. He noted the serving wench the King had lusted over, noting how she hastily placed empty goblets onto a tray and ran out with them. She didn't get anywhere before she saw him looking at her, his usual intense stare focused fully on her. Robb grinned for a second as he took Arya by the arm and led her towards the back of the Great Hall.

"Sansa has done nothing but talk about the Prince Joffrey," Arya complained once she and Robb began walking down the corridor together. "I don't like him."

"You are not the only one," Robb grunted back, remembering the smug look on the Prince's face. He turned down the corridor and Arya jumped ahead, walking backwards in front of him as she looked at him with an inquisitive stare.

"Do you really think she will have to marry him?" Arya wondered.

"I do not know," Robb responded. "Father will be the one to answer that, Arya."

"Seven Hells...marrying him..." Arya muttered as they took to the stairs before Robb noted her wandering down the corridor, the tray still in her hand. He presumed she must be rushing back to the kitchens. He looked around, noting how quiet it was inside of the walls of Winterfell's castle.

"Arya," Robb placed a hand on her shoulder, "go to your chamber and I will be there in a while."

"Why?" Arya wondered back, continuing to climb the stairs without him.

"I just have something to see to," Robb responded and began to rush off down the corridor.

He noted that she had disappeared from view and so he waited with patience, leaning against the wall by the kitchen. He folded his arms over his chest before he saw he leave the door to the kitchen and he acted quickly, grabbing hold of her wrist. She shrieked loudly for a moment before Robb placed his hand over her mouth and dragged her from the corridor and into the cold air of the courtyard.

She finally turned in his hold before he moved his hand down to cup her chin and moved his hand from her mouth. She took a few moments to catch her breath back whilst Robb laughed lightly. It was then when she moved to hit him across the arm.

"You scared me half to death," she complained and Robb smirked, his hands moving to her waist, his touch soft. "What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be back at the feast?"

"Shouldn't you be at the feast?" Robb retorted and she rolled her eyes at him, her own hands daring to rest on his shoulders, feeling the cold leather which rested there.

"I was on my way," she reminded him, "but you rudely interrupted."

"I am sure no one will miss you for a few moments," Robb promised her, drawing her body closer to his before she looked around, worrying once more that they may be caught.

She titled her head to the side, "And you?" she wondered back.

"I have no eagerness to return and watch the King grope at you," Robb said and she sighed lowly, wondering if he had seen the King's previous performance. Robb acted quickly, tucking a strand of her loose dirty blonde curly hair behind her ear before doing the same to the side.

"He gropes at anything that comes close to him," she responded. "When does this royal visit end?"

"Soon enough," Robb promised her. "I shall see what I can do to keep him from you, Isabelle."

She shook her head at him, moving her hands over his shoulders, focusing her eyes on that as his hands roamed her waist, the plain red dress she wore brushing against her skin as he continued with the motion.

"Do not worry over me," she urged him. "I am able to look after myself."

Robb's deep laugh shook against her body as he lowered his head closer towards her, one hand moving to tilt her chin to look up at him. She did so, her green eyes widening as she saw his lips slowly move closer than what was acceptable. She said nothing as he finally pressed his lips against hers, feebly attempting to gain access to her mouth whilst she remained stern. She knew that they had to be careful, especially with a royal party in the grounds.

"Would you deny your Lord what he truly wants?" Robb wondered, his hot breath hitting her cheek as he pulled his lips from hers and rested his forehead on hers.

She ran her hand up and down his neck, closing her eyes again. "I am merely attempting to stop my Lord from getting carried away."

Robb sighed then and nodded against her. "I am to go hunting tomorrow," he informed her. "I may see you in the evening if possible."

She nodded in agreement with him then, her fingers playing with his curly auburn locks at the back of his neck. Robb shivered at the motion, a tingling sensation running down his spin and she smirked at the effect she had on him. The Gods only knew how she had truly managed to catch Robb Stark's eye.

"Now," she spoke to him, "we should truly return to the feast. Your mother will surely wonder where you have gotten to and if she found out...well...I doubt she would be enthralled with you."

"I should suspect you are right," Robb agreed with her, the warmth of his body slowly leaving hers. "Would you care for me to escort you back?"

She shook her head at him then, "I need to go and fetch more wine from the cellar. I should be back soon. Now go before we both end up in trouble."

Robb bent down to kiss her chastely once more and she closed her eyes, scarcely noting his absence before her eyes opened and she saw him retreating down the corridor inside whilst she remained outside the walkway. She folded her arms over her chest and rested her back against the wall, her cheeks still flushed with Robb's sudden intrusion.

"Well, well, well," a voice drawled in the darkness. "Were my eyes deceiving me or was the future Lord of Winterfell unable to keep his hands from a serving wench? How dishonourable of him."

Isabelle peered into the darkness, her orbs narrowed before she noted the one they called the imp moving towards her, a flagon in his hand as he did so. His eyes twinkled and she gulped loudly, not too sure whether she should be beg him to keep quiet or lie to him.

"No need to look so scared," he promised her. "I have no intention of running off to Lady Stark to inform her of her eldest son's mishaps."

"Why would you keep it quiet?" Isabelle wondered, folding her shaking hands over her waist whilst he smirked over to her, shaking his head slowly.

"It is a long story which I do not wish to trouble you with," he promised her. "Although I doubt it is as interesting as your story."

"My story?" she asked back and he chuckled, moving past her as he realised his brother would soon seek him out if he did not go.

He called back to her as he went, having no intention of making her life a living hell. No, there were other people he would prefer to see suffer in comparison to some serving wench.

"Of how you charmed the young wolf into your bed."

Isabelle said nothing back to him then, choosing to remain in the cold as he wandered off. It was then when she shook her head and muttered to herself;

"It didn't take much charming on either part."

...

A/N: I know that there are many Robb/OC stories out there, but I just couldn't help starting one of my own! So if you could review then that would be awesome and I hope you enjoyed the opening chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

Isabelle lay awake in her bed, her cheeks still red after hours of waiting on the royal party. The feast raged on until the early hours of the morning, but there was still work to be done in clearing everything away. She had gossiped with other women about the royal party, mostly discussing how beautiful the Queen was and how humiliating it must be to have the King as a husband. Isabelle laughed along with them, doing her best not to gossip too much for she never knew who was listening in.

It took hours before the staff left the castle, each of them wandering in their own direction. Some owned homes outside the castle walls, but Isabelle had a room within the walls. It was small and cold, but it had a bed and a wardrobe. She did not need much else. The serving staff quarters were usually filled with activity, girls laughing and joking whilst discussing their latest romantic interests. It was different that evening, everyone choosing to go to bed as soon as possible.

That was when Robb struck.

Isabelle could not fall to sleep, but she did startle as she heard her door open. The night was dark and she had doused her candle, her curtains were pulled across the window so even the moonlight remained hidden.

"Sh," his soft voice urged her as soon as he heard her panting in the darkness and the bed protested under her sudden weight. "It's only me."

Isabelle sighed and dropped down to lay back down on the bed as Robb moved over to her, squinting to make out her figure in the darkness. She pushed a hand through her curls and Robb pulled the covers from the bed.

"What are you doing here?" Isabelle worried from Robb. "Has something happened?"

Robb shook his head and slid into the bed next to her, his arm moving underneath her shoulders and she felt the cold leather from the chill of the air on him. He was still dressed from the feast and he hadn't even bothered to go to his own bed.

"Nothing has happened," Robb assured her. "I merely could not sleep myself."

Isabelle sighed and rested her hand on his broad chest as her legs entwined with his in the small single bed. Robb rested his head on the pillow, his fingers playing with the curls at the back of her head.

"Do you know how risky it was for you to come down here?" Isabelle couldn't stifle the yawn which escaped her. "If someone caught you-"

"-Isabelle," Robb interrupted her, his voice deep and low. "How many times have I been down here?"

Isabelle kept silent, knowing that he was trying to prove a point. Robb was very good at proving points. She could almost feel the smirk radiate from his lips as she closed her eyes and Robb took a deep breath, a sense of ease taking hold of his body.

She mumbled; "They will catch us one day."

Robb shook his head. "Not if we keep quiet."

Isabelle almost bit down on her tongue and caused it to bleed. She didn't know what to say to him of the matter. She knew that it was wrong for her and Robb to continue sneaking around as they did. She was well aware of that, but she did nothing to stop it. She was as foolish as he was.

"And how long do you think it will be before your mother finds you a Lady of proper worth?" Isabelle wondered and Robb held in the groan which wanted to escape him. They had gone over this issue multiple times.

"My mother has other issues to worry about," Robb promised Isabelle and he felt her roll over onto her side, her back to him. Robb frowned at her stubbornness and dared to drape his arm over her midsection, hauling her back to press against his chest.

"But it is certain that you will marry someday, and it will not be me," Isabelle replied. "We should not be doing this, Robb. You know that we should stop."

"Yet I know that is not what you want," Robb responded. "Do you think I want to marry some high born Lady one day? Do you think that is what I want, Isabelle?"

Isabelle remained silent as she felt Robb's warm breath on her neck, his lips slowly trailing down the skin there and she resisted the urge to groan at the motion. He continued to talk as his fingers splayed over her stomach, stopping her from moving away from him.

"I would have you right now if I knew that I could be with you for the rest of my days," he promised her. "You know that it is you who I want, Isabelle. It always has been and it always will be."

"It matters not what you want," Isabelle replied, turning back around to face him, catching his chin in her hands to stop him from continuing his assault on her skin. She looked him in the eye, managing just to see him up close. "I don't know how much longer this can go on for, Robb. Both of us will end up hurt one day."

Robb closed his eyes and sighed; "Do you want this to stop?"

Isabelle gulped and didn't know how to respond. She could be truthful or she could lie to him. Either scenario filled her with dread: dread that she would never truly be his nor could he be hers.

"You know the answer to that," Isabelle responded lowly.

"That is hardly an answer," Robb complained to her and she shook her head against his chest, closing her eyes and inhaling the musty scent with came from him spending his evening in the Great Hall feasting and drinking.

"It has been a long day," Isabelle evaded the question, "we should try to sleep. You should leave before the sun rises."

"I have snuck out multiple times before," Robb responded. He could sense that she did not wish to speak of their dilemma.

It happened every time he brought the issue up.

She would avoid telling him what she truly wanted to do, leading him to believe that she would continue to spend time with him. Not that he minded, every spare second he had was spent with him and Isabelle hiding in archways or sitting in the Godswood. Robb would do anything possible to be with her.

He knew he was being foolish. The day would come when he would have to marry and become Lord of Winterfell. He dreaded that day for he knew he would well and truly lose Isabelle. He would not keep her as his mistress; it would not be honourable. He couldn't help but think he was being dishonourable by sharing her bed, but he would never do anything to risk her losing her innocence.

"You know I care for you, Isabelle," Robb whispered a few minutes later. She said nothing back to him, but he could feel her breath hitting his chin and he assumed she was sleeping.

Robb closed his own eyes then; "More than anything really."

...

Isabelle didn't know what time she awoke, but she found herself alone in the small bed. She looked around, wondering where Robb had gone, but she found no trace of him. Flailing on the bed, she closed her eyes and contemplated falling back to sleep. It was only when she heard laughter from the corridor outside her room did she know that she should wake up and begin the day's duties.

She picked herself up from the bed and pulled her nightgown over her head, changing into her blue dress, lacing it up at the front before brushing her hair and pinning it back from her face.

Skipping breakfast, Isabelle rushed through the castle, changing sheets and washing them as the hunting party assembled in the courtyard. She caught Robb's gaze as she moved back indoors with the dried linen and he sat atop of his horse, pulling his leather gloves over his fingers. He remained emotionless, his face like stone.

It was only when he had gone did the news rock Winterfell.

The news of Bran's fall.

Isabelle and the rest of the serving staff remained startled at the news, each one of them discussing how it must have happened. Isabelle had no idea, nor did she partake in the gossip. She stood outside in the cold, her arms wrapped around her. All she could think about was Robb. How trivial it seemed to her. They had spent hours arguing and now his little brother lay in bed on the verge of death.

Isabelle didn't know how long she had spent waiting for Robb to make a sudden appearance, not that she could blame him if he didn't find her. He had his brother to worry about.

She continued to bring in the linen, only to startle as she felt a hand wrap around her arm. She looked up into his stern gaze, her eyes widening as he bent down to whisper to her;

"Come to me tonight," he urged and she nodded without questioning him.

He walked off with haste and Isabelle bowed her head, counting down the hours until night fell.

She made her way to Robb's chamber as soon as the castle had quietened down. She knocked on the wood; continuously looking up and down the corridor to make sure no one appeared. Robb opened the door soon enough, hauling her into the room and closing the door. He bolted it for precaution and Isabelle was soon draped over him, doing her best to comfort him.

"How is he?" she wondered and Robb wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Maester Luwin says that tonight is critical," Robb admitted to her. "Mother and father are sat with him...Jon is with Arya and...well...I didn't..."

"I understand," Isabelle assured him, sensing that he didn't want to be alone.

It was rare she found herself in Robb's chamber, but it was much warmer than her own. The fire was still roaring and his bed was neatly made with his sword draped over it. He had removed his armour from his body, a simple tunic and breeches covered him now. Isabelle took hold of his hand as she looked around the room, noting a book by the hearth.

She narrowed her gaze, noting the title before Robb followed her eyes.

"I have yet to take it back to the library," he informed her. "I thought that I would leave it here in case you ever came back...I..."

The book was one of tales which Robb had picked out for her in a feeble attempt to help her learn how to read. She had been born to parents who had died so young and they had never taught her to read or write. Robb was the one who thought he could manage it, but he was about a patient a teacher as she was a student.

"Is there anything I can do?" Isabelle asked from him.

"No," Robb shook his head, his fingers entwining within hers as he sat in front of the fire and dragged her down to sit beside him. "I just want the night to be over with so that I can know about Bran."

Isabelle nodded and pecked him on the cheek, curling her legs underneath her as Robb did the same.

"He didn't fall," Robb suddenly spoke. "It isn't possible."

Isabelle shrugged at that, looking at him and tenderly pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Bad things happen to the best of us, Robb," she informed him. "He might remember what happened when he wakes up. Only Bran can give us the answer."

"He's strong."

"That he is," Isabelle said, cupping his cheek tenderly and looking him in the eye. "All Starks are."

Robb bent down to kiss her again, his mind still on Bran as he slowly kissed Isabelle, oblivious to the chaos which would soon become his life.

...

A/N: Thank you to Kahteryne B, Heartless-Princess33 and Miss. Lori MacManus for reviewing the first chapter. I do hope you will let me know what you all think!


	3. Chapter 3

"I have to go," Isabelle whispered to Robb as the sun began to stream into his chamber. She was resting precariously on Robb's hips, straddling him as she bent at the waist to press her lips against his forehead and run her hands through his red curls. Robb's hands slowly ran up and down her back, feeling the cotton material of her dress whilst her hair tickled against his chest.

"Must you?" Robb wondered from her, his voice thick and low in the morning.

"Unless you wish for your mother or father to find us like this then I have to go," Isabelle replied, quickly dropping her lips to press against his forehead.

Robb sighed, watching as she stood from him and went about making herself presentable for the outside world. He watched her whilst laying on his side, one hand stuffed underneath his pillow and the other resting down his side. He couldn't help but stare at her whilst she adjusted the laces on the front of her gown.

"I am beginning to wonder if it would be so bad," Robb admitted to Isabelle. "My brother almost died...he is just a boy...and I worry about what would happen if I admitted I was in love to my mother."

Isabelle's eyes widened as soon as he had said those words. He had not spoke them before to her, nor did she know if she could bear to hear them. He may love her, but he knew the danger of loving her. He was to be a Lord and expectations were held for him; expectations which succeeded marriage to a wench.

"You know what would happen," Isabelle promised him. "You know as well as I do that your mother would not be happy with you and she would never let it happen. You have other things to worry about, Robb. Do not fret over us-"

"-But I do," Robb replied, flopping onto his back, his arms resting by his sides as he thought of what he wanted to say to her. He had so much inside of him which he refused to say. He knew that it was dangerous for him to do so. He knew it could just end up hurting both of them. "I worry about what will happen to us. It is selfish of me to think about it as my brother suffers through pain, but I do think of it."

Isabelle slipped her shoes onto her feet and then looked back to him, pulling her hair to rest over one of her shoulders. A small smile of disappointment rested on her face and she perched herself on the edge of the bed, turning her upper body to Robb. He sighed and took his hand to rest of her waist, his fingers curling around her side as he did so.

"It is wrong of me, I know," Robb promised her. "I would run with you if I could."

"You are to be Lord of Winterfell one day," Isabelle reminded him, regardless of the fact he did not need reminding. "Your duty is to stay here with your parents and learn what is expected of you. I knew that before all of this. We both knew it, yet we continue on this path."

"I know," Robb mumbled and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before Isabelle bent down to kiss him again.

"You should get up," she urged him. "It will be a long day."

"Aye, that it will," Robb agreed. "I shall see you later on."

"Of course," Isabelle agreed and slowly moved over to the door, unlocking it and peeling herself from the room. She looked around before fully stepping out into the corridor. She moved down the corridor with haste, her hands holding her skirts up to her ankles so she did not trip over them on the way. It was only when she rounded the corner did she bump into the ward of Winterfell.

"Slow down," Theon demanded from her, his hands moving to her shoulders to steady her.

Isabelle rocked back and forth on her heels as Theon moved his hand down her side, slowly grabbing hold of her waist. Isabelle felt his spindly fingers on her and she looked at him with resentment.

"I apologise, my Lord," she said, doing her best to sound polite. "I should have looked where I was going."

Theon chuckled then and noted a lace to her dress was askew through the hooks. He lowered his gaze and Isabelle watched as his hands moved to the laces and he began to pull them undone. She almost began to fret before he spoke;

"If you're going to spend your night fucking Robb then make sure you get dress properly before leaving him," Theon warned her as the dress opened precariously.

"I thank you for your concern, but I think I can dress myself," she promised him and Theon smirked. He had no intention of taking her from Robb. He had no intention of bedding her, but watching her squirm was entertaining. He kept his hands on the laces before he began to pull them back through the eyelets, speaking lowly as he did so.

"You are both playing a dangerous game," Theon warned her. "What is it about you that entices him so much, hmm? Do you know?"

She kept still as the back of his hand brushed against her breast and she glowered for a few moments. How had Theon discovered about her and Robb? Why had Robb not told her that he knew.

"Lord Robb-"

"-You can drop the titles," Theon urged her. "I saw you with him weeks ago behind the stables. It is a wonder his bastard is not in your belly just yet."

"Robb is a gentleman," Isabelle suddenly sniped. "He would do nothing so reckless."

Theon's brow furrowed as he tied the laces into a bow and moved his hand over her collarbone to brush her loose hair over her shoulder, his fingers curling in it as he did so. Isabelle watched his eyes moved over her face, almost as if he was trying to deduce what she wanted. He would find out soon enough. One day he would know.

"So he hasn't fucked you?"

"No," Isabelle replied. "Besides, I should not discuss it."

"Why?" Theon wondered back. "Because I'm just a ward of Winterfell?"

"Because it is no one's business and if anyone else were to find out then we would both be in trouble. Robb is a good and honest-" Isabelle was interrupted as she felt Theon's lips descend upon hers. She winced as he hooked his arm around her waist, drawing her body tightly against his. It was only when she looked over his shoulder did she see serving girls moving down the corridor.

The girls looked at them as they walked by and Theon pushed Isabelle against the wall, the motion sweeping as his other hand cradled the back of her head to make sure she did not hit her skull against the wall. He pulled back once they had rounded the corner and Isabelle bit down on her bottom lip whilst Theon made sure no one was in the corridor to note Isabelle's scowling face.

"What?" Theon asked once he saw her puzzled face. "Did you want them to hear you speak about Lord Robb?"

Isabelle knew what they would think. Some serving women had been used for Theon's pleasure. It was best they thought of her in that manner than know the truth about her and Robb. It would be safer, anyhow.

Theon released her then and she nodded bluntly at him.

"I should go," she said.

"You should," Theon agreed with her, relishing the taste of her on his tongue.

"And...well...you should maybe explain what just happened to Robb," Isabelle urged him, "before the servants get a chance to gossip."

Theon chuckled and turned on his heel, walking away from her; "I merely worry he will grow jealous."

Isabelle scoffed and shook her head, wandering through the corridors; "He has no reason to worry whatsoever."

...

Bran had survived the night. That was all he could ask from his baby brother; to keep strong. Robb knew that his mother would soon become ill if she did not leave his bedside, yet he could understand her grief. He knew that she was suffering, even more so once she learned that Ned still intended to travel to King's Landing.

"Rumours were circulating this morning."

Robb looked up as he heard his brother speak to him. He looked over to Jon as he held a saddle over his shoulder, readying his horse for the journey North and to the Wall. Robb's brow arched and a solemn look came over his face;

"And what rumours are they?"

"Theon was found in the corridor with his hands on a certain maid," Jon said and Robb's brows knitted together in the middle of his forehead. He had spoken to Theon, but the ward had not mentioned seeing a maid in a corridor.

"And why is this news?" Robb wondered and Jon came to his horse, slinging the saddle over the creature. Robb ran his hand down its mane, trying to distract himself from the smirk on Jon's face.

"She was called Isabelle," Jon said. "The one we saved that day. I trust you remember her."

It was then when Robb's mask fell and he stopped stroking the horse's neck and Jon folded his arms over his shoulders.

"How do you know?" Robb wondered.

He had hoped it had only been Theon who knew, but he appeared incorrect.

"I saw the way you looked after her as she was nursed back to health," Jon reminded him. "I am your brother, Robb. Do you think I don't notice you sneaking off from training early? Do you think I don't see the way you stare at her?"

Robb would scarcely take time to deny it to his brother. He trusted Jon as much as he trusted Theon, although the Greyjoy was slowly losing his trust after the tale which had just been told.

"I trust you will tell no one," Robb said and Jon scoffed.

"No one at the Wall would care," he promised his brother. "Just be careful...and keep me informed about Bran. I didn't want to leave him like this...well..."

"I will," Robb promised and clapped his brother on the shoulder before Jon nodded and embraced him. The motion was heartfelt as the two brothers hugged for an acceptable amount of time. Robb pulled back and kept his face neutral;

"Take care, Snow," he urged him.

"You too, Stark."

...

Isabelle stood in the tower of the library, looking out of the window as the royal party left Winterfell. Lady Arya and Lady Sansa had gone with their father and Jon Snow made his trek towards the Wall. Tyrion Lannister also decided to pay the North a visit whilst his brother and sister returned to King's Landing.

"I have been looking everywhere for you."

Isabelle startled and looked down the curling steps as Robb approached her. He stood on the step below the one she occupied and he looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"What are you doing up here?" she wondered.

"I know where you go when you have spare time," Robb reminded her and looked to the narrow window she was looking out of. He could make out the royal party and he sighed, turning his eyes back to Isabelle.

"I heard a rumour today," Robb informed her and she leant against the sill of the window, folding her arms over her chest. "Apparently you have been cosy with a certain ward."

She could already hear the jealousy in his voice and she could still see it even after she had rolled her eyes into the back of her head. She took another moment to shake her head.

"He kissed me to stop me talking about you as some servants walked by," Isabelle told Robb, her hands moving to hold his shoulders and he looked unconvinced for a few moments. "I told him that he should tell you before gossip struck. It seems that he ignored me completely. Honestly, Robb, that is all there is to it."

And Robb believed her. There would have been a time in their relationship when he didn't, but he had known her too long to question her, especially over such a matter.

"Are you certain?" Robb asked back.

"He was a terrible kisser," she teased and Robb felt a smile on his face as she leaned down to press her lips against his again. She pulled back after a second and tucked Robb's hair behind his ears. "I should go back to work. I was only supposed to take a short break. Do you wish for me to come to you tonight?"

"Of course," Robb nodded back before he heard the slamming of a door from the top of the staircase. He looked at Isabelle and she quickly moved down the stairs, rushing away from the footsteps which approached.

Robb remained where he was before he came face to face with Maester Luwin, the only man who would use the library.

"My Lord," Luwin inclined his head and Robb did the same. "What brings you to the library?"

"I was on my way to...find a book...to read to Bran..." Robb lied and Luwin raised an amused brow. He had heard the entire conversation in the staircase. He was no fool, but he was not one to ruin what happiness the boy had, even if it would be short lived.

"I am sure your brother would appreciate you reading to him, even if he cannot hear you," Luwin said and began to move back down the stairs. "He is a strong boy."

"Aye," Robb grumbled back, looking out of the window and shaking his head, wondering how much longer he could sneak around with Isabelle.

...

A/N: Thanks to anyone reading! No reviews for chapter 2 but I do hope you'll let me know what you think of this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

"I think that I truly do prefer you with a bit of hair on your face," Isabelle suddenly informed Robb as the two of them stood in the courtyard. Winterfell was quiet, almost in a state of abandonment in comparison to normal. It seemed very quiet without the squeals of children running throughout the walls. Isabelle didn't realise how much noise Arya and Sansa had made when they both antagonised each other.

"Oh really?" Robb wondered back from her as she ran her hands down his cheeks, feeling the smoothness of his skin. "And why would that be?"

"You look young," she pouted back to him and he grinned, moving his arms to hook around her thighs before he picked her up and twirled her in the air, giving her no other option than to wrap her arms and his neck. "It makes me feel old."

"You are older," he teased her and she playfully hit him on the arm as he backed her against the wall, their motions hidden by the sheets which were drying on the line through the courtyard and the lack of people in that area.

He slowly moved his hands to her waist as she slid down the wall, her hips pressing against his as she twirled her fingers through the curls at the back of his head, her eyes straight ahead and set on his neck.

"Only by one name day," she responded in a mumble. "I heard stories of men being with younger women, but never women being with younger men."

Robb's hands continued to roam her hips, the motion sooth and causing her to shiver as he looked down to her, trying to get her to meet his gaze. It was proving much more difficult than he had thought. He slowly bent his head; his lips meeting the skin of her neck as he delicately kissed it.

"And does that bother you?" Robb wondered and she shook her head, her cheek hitting the soft curls on top of his head as she did so. "Then there is nothing to be worried about."

Two days had passed since Lord Eddard Stark had commenced his journey to King's Landing and Bran had not yet awoken. The Maester had assured the Stark family that he had overcome the worst of his injuries, but he had yet to open his eyes and speak the truth of his fall. Isabelle knew that Catelyn had yet to leave the chamber her son occupied and Rickon barely left Robb, only when he had lessons.

"There is plenty to be worried about," Isabelle said, pouting as she pulled back and Robb moved his forehead to rest against hers, leaning in to kiss her only for her to pull back slightly from him. "Like being caught in the open like this," Isabelle concluded and Robb grabbed her backside, pressing her firmly against him again. "And you are extremely difficult to tame today."

Robb chuckled against her skin and grinded his hips against hers, causing a gasp to escape her lips. "You know what they say about wolves."

"How could I even forget with you reminding me?" Isabelle replied and kissed him again. "But I do have work to do. Should I see you tonight?"

"The library tower," Robb replied and reluctantly he released her from his grip reluctantly, his hand moving to hold hers for a brief moment, stopping her from walking away from him. She looked at him over her shoulder and squeezed his hand tightly inside of hers.

"Lord Robb!"

Robb sighed and Isabelle smiled at him, nodding swiftly before she dropped his hand and waited for night to fall once more. She moved past the sheets, noting Maester Luwin as he continued to shout for Robb. She inclined her head and moved away from him. Little did she know a small smirk had built on his face.

...

Isabelle patiently sat in the windowsill of the library tower, her feet off the ground as she swung them back and forth. She remained patient, her fingers tapping against the stone of the ledge as she thought of what chores she had to do the following day. She could not blame Robb for being late. He was acting as a Lord now that his mother refused to run Winterfell. He was a busy man. He was far busier than Isabelle had ever seen him before.

It wasn't long before she heard footsteps move up the tower and she jumped down from where she sat; her hands on her hips as the sound grew louder.

"And what time do you call this?" she taunted before she saw his face.

Only when the man came into view did Isabelle freeze and her mouth gaped. A hood covered his face and teeth were missing as noted through his open lips. His eyes glimmered as he saw Isabelle and she instantly felt fear rise inside of her.

"Do I know you?" Isabelle wondered from him and he shook his head back and forth.

"You don't know me, girl," he promised her and Isabelle wondered what to do. "But I will get to know you."

It was in that moment when she tried to push past him, only for him to take hold of her waist, hauling her back against him and then finally tilting her over his shoulder. She smacked her wrists on his back, yelling for someone to hear her, but no one came. Isabelle roared out loud, determined to get away from him as she heard the door to the library open. He pushed it open and locked it behind him, noting the candle inside of the room as he did so.

"Now, now," he spoke in a hushed tone, dropping Isabelle to the floor by the fireplace. "I have some time...you were expecting someone...I'll take care of you."

"No!" Isabelle roared, clawing at him as he straddled her waist, his hands moving to the laces on the front of her gown. She continued to fight, only to be backhanded across the face. She winced, the taste of blood rising up inside of her as this man continued to grope her, removing her gown until she was merely in her small clothes.

His hand ran up the inside of her thigh whilst he moved his nose in between her breasts and she felt tears run down her face as he mercilessly cupped a breast and chuckled to himself, the sound cold and calculating.

"You a virgin, girl?" he wondered from her, his hand dangerously wandering up her thigh. "You squirm like one."

It was then when the sound of wolves howling snapped the man from his thoughts and he looked up and over to the window before shaking his head. He had a job to do. He needed the money more than he needed this girl and he could be interrupted if he had his way with her. She was clearly already waiting for someone.

"You're lucky," he told her. "I don't have any time to stay here and have you like I wished."

He chuckled as she went limp underneath him and he slowly pulled her underclothes down her arms, revealing her bare breasts to him and she remained still as he looked at them and then back to her, quickly bending down to kiss her on the lips squarely. Isabelle squirmed once more, the feel of him trying to invade her mouth almost causing her to wretch right then and there. She could feel his hardness in her belly, but she did her best to ignore it as he pulled back and nodded to her breast.

"The best set of teats I have seen in a long time," he promised her, bending down to press his lips against the side of one quickly.

"No," Isabelle mumbled as she felt his weight move from her and he climbed from her. She pulled her underclothes back up to cover herself as he shut the door on her.

She remained still for a few moments, her undergarments halfway up her thigh and her legs still spread open. It was only when she saw fire underneath the door did she begin to panic.

...

Robb had been in his father's study until the night fell. He knew that Isabelle would be waiting for him, but he had to see his mother first. It had been then when he noted the fire in the library tower. And it was after that when he remembered Isabelle.

Robb felt fear build within him as he rushed to the library tower, noting men stood there already trying to put the flames out. Robb barged past them, looking for any sign of Isabelle, but receiving nothing from her.

"My Lord!" Robb turned around, noting Farlen the kennel master stood in the middle of circular staircase. Buckets of water continued to be pushed past them as Farlen took hold of Robb's arm, the time of urgency making him forget his manners.

"A girl is in the library!" Farlen snapped. "She is cowering in the window of the tower where there is air."

"Is there no way up?" Robb quickly asked.

"The flames are spreading down the tower. It won't be long until it crumbles."

Robb rushed back down the steps and moved around the circular tower, looking upwards for the window. Men and woman crowded around a certain section, looking upwards to the window at the top. It was there where Robb saw her. She was crouched in the sill, the glass broken around her and she leaned out the windows, trying to avoid on the oncoming flames. Robb looked up and stood in the midst of the throngs of people. The sight of Isabelle coughing for fresh air with black mark on her skin caused Robb to look around, scraping for any sign of something to use to help him get her down.

"My Lord!" Luwin's voice was sudden and apparent.

"Ladders," Robb suddenly snapped, looking around and ignoring Luwin. "Get the ladders now!"

"Will they reach?" one man asked.

Robb went to draw his sword, only to note that he did not have it with him. "You will try!"

"Lord Robb," Luwin tried again. "The tower is too tall for you to climb! The girl would have to fall and you cannot be privy to catch her."

"I will do what I can," Robb promised Luwin as the ladder was set against the stone. Robb looked up, noting that it was about six feet too short. He ground his teeth together and set about climbing the structure, gulping loudly as he did so.

Robb's palms sweated against the wood as three men held it at the bottom for him. He moved with as much haste as possible until his hands curled around the last step and he looked up, Isabelle's gaze meeting his as she continued to cough, choking loudly and painfully.

"Isabelle!" He yelled her name. "I need to you to climb from the window."

"How?" she worried, fighting the coughs which broke from her throat. "It's too high."

"No," Robb promised her. "I will catch you before you can fall. I will grab hold of you. You have to do this, Isabelle. It is the only way."

She looked hesitant for a few moments, the flames causing her skin to heat and her whole body felt as though it was slowly melting from her bones. She looked down at the distance between her and Robb, catching his eye again as he held his hand up to her.

"Trust me," he urged.

She nodded, knowing that there was no other way. She slowly climbed out of the window, her legs dangling down the high wall above Robb. She turned her body around slowly, dropping further and further down the window as she did so. Robb nodded encouragingly, keeping silent to give her a chance to think. She whimpered as she clung onto the sill with her arms, her face now fully staring into the fire.

"Now what?" she worried, looking behind her to see that Robb was still a good distance away from her.

"Lower yourself down as far as possible," Robb said. "You have to hold on by your fingertips, Isabelle."

She nodded and did as he had asked her, her weight growing larger as she clung onto the ledge. It was the only thing stopping her from falling now. Robb tried to move his arm as high as possible until his fingertips wrapped around her ankle and he felt her body shake.

"There's a small bit of stone which sticks out just at your waist. You need to reach down and hold onto that quickly. Do not slip from it, Isabelle."

She looked down, noting how he was right. A small bit of rock sat there. She closed her eyes and allowed one hand to let go; quickly taking hold of the protruding rock. She sobbed hysterically before shaking her head, unable to release the window sill she held.

"I can't...I can't..." she muttered.

Robb increased his grip on her ankle and she looked back to him.

"I have you," he promised her softly. "I just need you to do this so that I can carry you down. We don't have a lot of time, Isabelle."

She inhaled sharply and took a firm hold of the rock before she placed her feet against the stone, hoping that it would slow her from falling straight down. She released the sill and quickly flailed her then free hand, searching for the rock as her body dropped down the wall at an alarming rate. Robb noted and he released her ankle, taking hold of her by her thighs as they came level with his head at that moment in time.

She managed to grip the rock in time, the added security of Robb's arms around her firmly aiding her slightly.

"You're safe," Robb promised her then and he guided her foot to the third to top step. "Just bend slightly and begin to climb down."

Isabelle did as he said, moving slowly down the steps, Robb's body soon engulfing hers as he stood on the step beneath her, his hands moving over hers as he refused to let her fall. He continued to whisper soothing things in her ear until he stood on the ground. Men clapped him for his efforts, but he ignored them. Isabelle had no chance to touch the ground before Robb picked her up and into his arms. She continued to cough and Robb demanded that she be given space; only the Maester Luwin could tend to her.

He placed her down away from the fire as efforts continued to put it out.

"You're going to be alright," Robb assured her, allowing her body to rest against his side as he shrugged from the jacket which sat over his shirt. He wrapped it around her shoulders, only to note the white underclothes she wore which were blackened. His brow furrowed as he tucked her hair from her face and she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Isabelle," he whispered her name. "Why are you-"

"-She will need fresh air and plenty of it," the Maester suddenly informed Robb, coming into sight and kneeling by the pair of them. "And water too. Her breathing is heavy, but hopefully she has not inhaled too much smoke...my Lord...there is a man...he is badly burnt..."

"If he requires your attention more than this lady then go and see to him," Robb assured the Maester. "I shall keep her in the fresh air and give her water until you have seen to him."

"Thank you, my Lord," Luwin said and then rushed off again.

Isabelle continued to cough, her hands moving to grip hold of Robb's shirt, holding him close to her. She tried to find the words to say to him, but she could scarcely whisper anything. Robb understood and remained silent, cradling her close to him and thanking the Gods for keeping her alive.

...

A/N: So thank you to everyone who favourited and followed and is reading. Do let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

Robb had no other option but to leave Isabelle in Theon's care once he heard about his mother's attack. He had planted a soft kiss on her brow, promising her that he would return soon enough. Theon had picked her up then and carried her back to her chamber, his lips firmly closed. He said nothing as he sat on the edge of her bed and she sat up, clutching Robb's garment tightly around her shoulders to keep her warm.

"It was an attempt on Bran's life," Theon suddenly spoke, turning his head over his shoulder to look at Isabelle once she had gone quiet. She sipped on her water delicately and lowered her gaze from Theon's. "His direwolf protected him whilst the fire provided as a distraction."

"Was Lord Bran hurt?" Isabelle wondered and Theon shook his head. "And Lady Stark?"

"Both are safe enough. The Maester was tending to them before I came to find Robb. He should be here soon enough with his questions for you," Theon replied and Isabelle nodded in agreement with him.

She took another moment to search his gaze, wondering what he was thinking about before she drank more of the water from the goblet and then looked over to the doorway, willing for Robb to talk through it soon. He must have heard her silent pleas for the door opened and Robb held it open, nodding to Theon.

"Thank you, Theon," Robb spoke, his voice rough. "I would like to speak with Isabelle of this matter."

"As you say," Theon agreed with the man he classed as his friend, patting him on the back as he swept from the room.

Robb quickly shut the door behind him, locking it shut and then turning and moving to Isabelle's bed. She dropped her goblet to the floor as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her body to his tightly. She began to sob for some reason beyond her, not even Robb's arms could stop her from gurgling. He did his best, holding her tightly as her chin rested on his shoulder as his hand found the back of her head, his fingers bunching into her blonde curls.

"What happened?" he whispered after a few fleeting moments of silence. "My mother told me what...the man said he had met a girl in the tower...he..."

She could sense that Robb was struggling to allow the words to fall from his mouth. Isabelle took a moment to compose herself; slowly pulling back from Robb, her hands on his upper arms and he looked her in the eye, waiting for a response.

"He would have raped me if he had time," Isabelle spoke in a soft voice. "He did nothing to me...well...he did not have time apparently..."

A low growl erupted from Robb's throat. "But he left you in that tower to burn. He left you to die."

Isabelle gulped loudly and bit down on her bottom lip, moving her hand to hold onto Robb's free hand which was not cupping the back of her head. She squeezed his fingers inside of hers, bowing her head and looking to her lap as Robb sighed and looked around. The thought of anyone hurting Isabelle sickened him more than he cared to admit.

"Did he do anything else to you?" Robb asked, noting the bruise forming on her cheek from where he had struck her. She shook her head, still looking down to her lap. She could recall the last time she had been so close to violation. How could she forget it? She had left to get away from pain and it had caught her again.

"Nothing," Isabelle promised Robb.

"And did the flames burn you?" Robb worried and she shook her head again.

"They didn't have the chance. I was stood in the window for as long as possible," she responded and Robb nodded at her.

"You should change into some clean clothes. These are covered with ash," he informed her.

Isabelle silently moved from the bed and into her wardrobe. She pulled at a fresh nightgown and then looked back to Robb as he stared at her with the intense gaze she had grown used to.

"Close your eyes," she urged him.

"Isabelle, you have no need to fear me," he promised her, but closed his eyes anyway.

Satisfied, she began to pull her underclothes from her body, dropping them on the floor before catching her reflection in the mirror by her wall. She looked at her back over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she tried to draw her attention away from the marks on her skin. She seemed unable to do so and it was then when Robb peeled one eye open, wondering what was taking her so long.

She noted him staring at her through the mirror then and she quickly moved, stepping into her nightgown and pulling it up over her body. She hadn't been quick enough to stop Robb's gaze falling on her.

How could he forget the image he had just seen? How could he forget the scars which ran down her back? There had been several lines of red against her pale skin, each one of them standing out distinctly.

"Isabelle," Robb spoke her name and she picked up her discarded underclothes, dropping them to the bottom of her wardrobe. "What were they?"

"Nothing," she mumbled to him, closing the wardrobe and turning to look at Robb as he stood close to her, keeping her pinned between his body and the wardrobe. He moved his hands to cup her cheeks, noting how she couldn't help but avoid his gaze.

"You can talk to me," Robb promised her. "Who did that to you?"

"I can't...Robb..." she pleaded with him, shaking her head as her hands moved on top of his, trying to prise his fingers from her cheeks. "You need to believe me...please...I cannot tell you..."

Robb's brows furrowed and a crease formed in his perfect forehead. She continued to shake her head, willing for him to leave the matter be. He knew nothing of her past and that was how she would prefer to keep it. She didn't want anyone to know of her. She had spent years hiding from the truth.

"Someone has had you flayed, Isabelle," Robb said, his tone harsher than usual.

"It was a long time ago," she replied, finally pushing past him and pacing the length of her room, her arms wrapped around her waist as she did so. "It was a long time ago...I...I buried it...I don't want to bring it up...Robb..."

He could see the distress it was causing her, but at the same time he wanted to know the truth. He had to know the truth from her. There was something not quite right and Robb fully intended to find out what it was. He needed to know. He didn't want any secrets between both of them.

"Isabelle," he tried again as she stopped her walk and looked back to him. "You don't need to hide from me. Nothing about you will scare me from you. I care for you and you know that. You know that nothing will stop that."

She took another few moments to gasp for breath before sinking down onto her bed, burying her head into her hands. She didn't want to lie to Robb. She never wanted to lie to him, but she knew that it would hurt him to discover the truth. It hurt her more than she cared to admit. She felt the mattress sink down next to her and Robb's hand picked hers up and held it tightly. Her eyes were wet and wide.

"That day you found me," Isabelle whispered. "I had ran away from...my...the man..."

Robb kept silent and saw her look to the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. He didn't want to speak or pressure her into saying something. That was something he refused to do.

"I was born Eleanor Barton," Isabelle told Robb, hoping that she had nothing else to add to the conversation.

Robb's grip slackened on her hand and he looked straight ahead of him, his face scrunched up in concentration. He did his best to remember where he had heard that name before. House Bolton was located more than a hundred leagues from Winterfell. Their sigil was a deer and they occupied the Bardtower. Robb recalled that from his lessons with Maester Luwin.

He also recalled the rumours which surrounded the death of Lord Barton's only daughter.

"But...how..." Robb stammered and Isabelle shook her head at him, clasping her own hands together and wishing she had never brought it up.

"My parents are Lord and Lady Barton; your father's bannermen," Isabelle continued to speak, her voice barely a whisper. "They arranged for my marriage on my fourteenth name day to Roose Bolton's bastard son."

Isabelle took another deep breath and nodded, determined to finish the story for Robb's sake. "I was sent to the Dreadfort as soon as my moon's blood had passed. My parents intended to travel up for the wedding which was to be held...but...I had been gone a week and that was all it took before I pleaded with them not to marry me off to Ramsay."

Robb's mouth gaped and Isabelle leant forwards a bit more, a dark look passing on her face as she did so.

"They ignored me and the wedding went ahead," Isabelle spoke. "Ramsay had great pleasure in telling me how I was his for the rest of my days. He bed me every single night until a child formed within my belly. It was then when I grew fat...he would take other women...rape them against their will..."

Robb felt horror build within him. A sickening feeling ran down his body as he tried to recall everything that she was telling him.

"But that was not all he enjoyed doing. He would release the women into the forest. He would give them a feeling of freedom...give them some hope that their torture had ended. It would be then when he hunted them down on his horse; chasing them through the trees until the tripped or the dogs caught them."

A shiver passed down Isabelle's spine. She could still remember the sight of him flaying them when he brought her down to the dungeon one time. She could still feel his arms around her waist, his groin grinding against her backside as he held her chin and forced her to look at the flayed women.

"He would flay the ones who didn't get very far. He would punish them in any way he please," Isabelle muttered. "It was only when I spoke out against his activities on my sixteenth name day did he flay me and I lost our child."

Isabelle found herself shaking, but no tears fell from her eyes. She had shed too many of them over him and she promised herself no more would fall.

"I begged him to stop," Isabelle said. "I pleaded with him to be happy with me...I was his wife...I had his child inside of me, but that was not enough. It never would be enough. I still thought I could change him. I thought that he would change...but I was so naive...so stupid..."

"He didn't hurt me as much as he would have liked to. Lord Bolton found him and stopped him. It was then when Ramsay resented me. His father forbade him from hurting me like he did the serving maids...the women from the village..." she took another breath. "Of course Ramsay would have me spread my legs as often as possible after I lost our first child. I never grew with child again after that. I refused to have his spawn."

"I took moon tea as often as possible. The Maester of the Dreadfort...Raben...he gave me it whenever I asked. He warned me of the risks, but I ignored him. I took it without Ramsay's knowledge. Raben was kind to me where no one else in the Dreadfort would acknowledge me. It was him who helped me escape."

"Sweetsleep," Isabelle said the word as though it brought back fond memories for her. "Anything less than three drops brings on a deep sleep. Raben dropped the bottle next to me as I slept to make it look like suicide. I awoke a few hours later and he helped me to leave. I ran as fast as I could and he claimed to have buried my body. It was then when you and Jon found me."

Her story was enough to stop Robb from forming any coherent thought. All he could think about was what she had been through and what Ramsay had done to her. He lowered his gaze and looked to the floor as Isabelle wrapped her hand around his arm, trying to draw his attention back to her, but he seemed in a daze. Not that she could blame him. She had just revealed to him the truth of her life and that wasn't easy to comprehend. She was the one who had lived it and she still didn't want to believe it.

"Robb," Isabelle spoke lowly. "Say something please...I know that I have lied to you...I am no maiden nor am I a commoner as I still am to be Lady of the Dreadfort...but it took me so long to trust you that I didn't want to...I didn't want to remember..."

Robb turned to look at her then, taking her cheek in his hand. "You could be some commoner with no coin to your name and my opinion of you would not change."

She couldn't explain the sense of relief which washed through her then. She bent down to rest her head in the crook of his neck. He remained hesitant for a second and then wrapped his arms back around her.

"No one can know," she urged him. "No one...promise me, Robb..."

"I would have Ramsay Snow punished for what he did," Robb said and Isabelle looked at him, shaking her head with haste.

"No," she urged. "You cannot do anything to him. Please, Robb. I put it behind me. I do not want this...I do not want to see him again...Roose Bolton is your father's bannerman...you cannot lose him...not now...not whilst there is so much happening..."

Robb tried to soothe her, pushing her back against his chest as he ran his hands down her back. He would not discuss this matter with her whilst she was so hysterical. He knew that it would do no good. Isabelle closed her eyes and felt them water once more. Robb's teeth ground together as he did his best to fight off the urge he had to march straight to the Dreadfort and flay Ramsay Snow for himself.

...

A/N: So no reviews for the previous chapter so if you are reading pretty please do let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

"Your parents," Robb spoke as he sat with Isabelle that night. He had moved his back to rest against the headboard of her bed. He remained over the blankets on the bed whilst she curled underneath them, her head resting against his shoulder and chest.

"What of them?" she asked, noting how Robb moved his arm around her shoulders, his hand running up and down her back, slowly moving in soothing circles as he did so. "They do not know of my escape. I have not seen them since I was fifteen. I doubt they would recognise me now...no...I wrote to them often, telling them of Ramsay and his sadistic ways. They responded but only to tell me how I should serve my lord husband."

Robb sighed, wondering just how much pain she had seen in her short life. Her own parents had handed her to a monster with no concern. They had tossed her aside as though she was nothing but a piece of meat for Ramsay to chew from when he pleased.

"If I knew," Robb began, "I would never have...I would have been gentle...not grope...paw at you...whenever I saw you free..."

"No," Isabelle suddenly said; her voice fierce and she sat up to look at him, holding his chin. "I consented, Robb. I wanted you with me at any moment. You are not him. It took me a long time to trust anyone like I trust you. I spent the majority of my nights wondering why Ramsay couldn't love me...but now...now I would rather live an eternity alone than have his love."

Robb felt her press her lips against his and he relaxed his body. She pulled back and pecked him on the cheek before resuming her place against his chest.

"He should not be able to get away with this behaviour. His father is loyal to my father. He should be told that this is wrong. He should know that it is intolerable," Robb complained and Isabelle shook her head against the leather which still covered his body. She gripped onto it on his torso and held tightly, worrying that he would leave her then and there to go and tell his mother or someone. Isabelle was certain that the Starks had other issues to worry over in comparison to her.

"You may be acting Lord of Winterfell," Isabelle whispered, "but I do not wish to see you do anything which could damage the support of Lord Bolton. Do you think that he has not tried to stop Ramsay? Nothing can stop him...besides...Roose is as bad as his own son."

Robb's brows furrowed as he heard her say that and he cocked a brow, his chin doubling up as he moved his head to look down at her.

"What has Lord Bolton done?"

Isabelle shook her head, biting her lip before looking up to Robb. She had thought that it was common knowledge how Ramsay had been conceived. Perhaps he liked to boast about it to her to comfort himself? Isabelle truly had no idea.

"Ramsay's mother was a commoner who was wed. Lord Bolton...he saw her one day...spotted her and decided then and there that he wanted to make her his," Isabelle spoke. "He raped her underneath the tree which her husband hung from."

Robb winced and Isabelle shifted her weight over his body, continuing with the tale; "Anyway, Ramsay's mother was the one who urged her son to go to Lord Bolton. He had another son many years ago who was his legitimate heir...but...Ramsay wanted that claim and his son died...some whisper that it was Ramsay who killed him and others claim his death was natural. Ramsay never told me, but after seeing his dungeon I cannot help but think that it was the former."

Closing his eyes, Robb could scarcely believe what he had heard about the Bolton bastard. Isabelle shook her head and stared up to the ceiling.

"Roose had no other option but to name him the heir to the Dreadfort. It was then when my mother and father decided he would make me a worthy husband."

"He is not a man to be trusted," Robb spoke, his voice gruff as Isabelle felt him kiss the top of her head, the motion slow and tender and his chin remained on the top of her head. "And you would have me keep quiet of this?"

"I would have you keep quiet and stay here in Winterfell. What do you think Ramsay would do if he realised I was still alive? He would demand me to return to him as is his right as a husband." Isabelle said, noting the tick in Robb's jaw as he realised she was speaking sense to him.

He took another moment to glance over to her and narrow his gaze. She knew that he knew she was speaking sense from the stern and annoyed look on his face. He did not like to be bested that often, not that she could blame him. She knew how his mind worked and Robb was a gluten for justice.

"You need to keep this quiet, Robb," she urged him. "I didn't want to tell you-"

"-I am glad you did," Robb interrupted her. "I don't want you to keep secrets from me, Isabelle...not now, anyway."

She nodded in agreement with him on that issue. "I won't...I know that I don't have to..."

Robb sighed and ran his hand down her back quickly, trying to soothe her. "Go to sleep," he urged her. "It has been a trying day, Isabelle."

And for once she didn't even bother to go against his word. She lay her head on the pillows, Robb sinking down beside her and he failed to care about whether or not he woke before anyone saw him leave her chamber.

...

The news was kept between the five of them in the Godswood. Robb, Catelyn, Theon, Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin. Robb had almost struggled to believe what his mother had told him, but she had seemed certain enough of it. One of the Lannisters had pushed his brother from a window. They had pushed him to his death. Robb merely didn't know which one, but his mother was moving towards King's Landing that afternoon.

"Something troubles you," Catelyn informed her son once she had taken his arm inside of hers and the pair of them moved away from the Godswood. "I have known you long enough to know when your mind is elsewhere."

"My mind is currently on who would want to kill my little brother," Robb responded and Catelyn took a deep breath, nodding in agreement with him before she turned on her heel to look at him, stopping their movements. The other three men left the Godswood, muttering amongst each other whilst Catelyn demanded time alone with her son.

"And last night?" Catelyn wondered from him. "I heard from Maester Luwin about what you did, Robb. You climbed against a burning tower to save a woman."

Robb tried to act nonchalant, shrugging as his mother arched her brow, some form of knowing look on her face. She took another moment to sigh as Robb refused to divulge information with her. If only he knew that she was well aware of what was going on.

"I went to your chamber this morning, Robb," Catelyn said. "I then asked after you and found out about this girl. It was only when I went into the kitchen to wish her well did a maid direct me to her chamber."

Robb could feel a blush form on his cheeks as he pondered over the sight his mother must have seen. He was no fool, and Catelyn could not be played for one either. She clasped her hands behind her back and took a second to sway on her heels, waiting for Robb to divulge information with her.

"You can imagine my surprise when I saw you curled in her bed," Catelyn said.

"Isabelle," Robb suddenly spoke her name. "She is called Isabelle. She is the girl we found in the forest over a year ago now."

Nodding, Catelyn once again took her son's arm and began strolling by his side leisurely. "And how long have you been sharing this girl's bed?"

Robb shook his head, looking to the ground and wishing that he had a way to avoid this awkward conversation. "I have not...we have not..." Robb stammered and Catelyn smirked before squeezing Robb's arm.

"You have kept her innocent."

Robb almost felt the urge to scoff, but he did not. Her innocence had been taken from her in an action which Robb did not wish to consider. He also knew that he could not speak of it with his mother. He had promised to keep Isabelle's secret.

"Yes," Robb replied. "I know that it is not proper...Isabelle..."

"She is no lady," Catelyn replied. "You know that one day you will be expected to marry a highborn girl. You are the future Lord of Winterfell...Warden of the North..."

"I know who I am," Robb responded, stopping the walk again and removing himself from his mother arm. "I know who I am and I know what my responsibilities are. But would it be such a crime to be with Isabelle in the future?"

"It is not the way, Robb," Catelyn replied. "Allegiances with houses are made. Your father was never my first choice. You know that as well as I, but we are happy now. Marriage takes time to build whilst young love...it can often be foolish and naive."

Robb could feel his teeth grind together as he heard his mother. Deep down he knew that she was trying to protect him. He knew all along what would be expected of him, but never before did he think that it would hurt him so. Never before did he truly want to consider the consequences whilst they remained uncaught.

It was only when Robb thought of her past did it hurt him that little bit more. An allegiance between him and Isabelle...Eleanor...could have been possible. It would have stopped Ramsay from claiming her as his own. But now? Now Robb had no claim to her.

"What would you have me do?" Robb wondered back from his mother.

He looked at her with wide eyes and it was then that she remembered her son was still a young man. A young man trying to turn into a man. He still needed guidance. He still reserved judgement. He was young and growing too quickly with too much weight pressing down on his shoulders.

"End it," Catelyn said, knowing that it sounded harsh. "You need to do it before your heart ends up broken...and hers..."

"I can't," Robb said, his voice threatening to break as he recalled all of what she told him last night.

How could he leave her after she had professed everything to him? How could he abandon her when he had made the promise to protect her? But how could he give up Winterfell for her? Could he pass it on to Bran? Could he shrug off his responsibilities?

Robb moved over to a wooden bench underneath the trees and bent over, his hands holding his face. Catelyn looked back to her son; her own hands clasping her skirts as she rushed towards him and sat beside him, her arms instantly wrapping around him.

"I know this is hard, Robb," Catelyn said. "I can see that you genuinely care for the girl-"

"-You cannot understand," Robb interrupted her. "You do not know, mother."

"I know all about love," Catelyn said, her arms tightening and Robb shook his head back at her.

"There is more to it than that," Robb replied. "I made her a promise...last night...I promised her so much and I cannot go back on my word..."

Catelyn's brows furrowed and she knew that there was something her son was hiding. There was something which she was not quite grasping, but she would find out. She looked to Robb, taking his cheek into her hand as she forced him to look her in the eye. Her gaze was compassionate, full of wonder and longing; longing to make his pain go away.

"What is it?" she asked from him. "What else is there, Robb?"

"So much more," Robb spoke. "So much that she has promised me to keep secret...I cannot betray her trust...I do not wish to lose her trust..."

"I cannot force you to divulge information with me," Catelyn said. "But I would tell no one else of it. I want to understand, Robb. I want to know. I am your mother."

Robb took a deep breath before he felt the urge to confide in his mother. He needed guidance from her. With each passing second he couldn't help but think of how badly he wanted to swarm Ramsay Snow from the safety of his castle and have him executed for what he had done. No one deserved to go through such tortures. He was hurting the people of the North. He was sick and sadistic. In a way, this was more than Isabelle, but it was her who he truly feared for.

"Isabelle was a noble," Robb finally spoke. "Her real name is Lady Eleanor Barton."

Catelyn did her best to recall the name before she looked at Robb with confusion. "Ramsay Snow's late wife?"

"She ran away from him," Robb said. "She ran from him and that was when we found her. She had escaped him by faking her own death with the help of the maester at the Dreadfort."

"Why?" Catelyn asked. "He was her lord husband-"

"-The flayed man of House Bolton is their house's banner," Robb interrupted. "It seems the flaying does not stop in the history books."

Catelyn gasped in horror as Robb looked at her with narrowed eyes, his hands in between his open legs and clenching into fists.

"Isabelle told me of what he did to her," Robb continued. "He would rape her whenever he pleased before she grew pregnant...then he would move on to other women, but he would not just rape them."

Catelyn's face paled and she could only imagine what else her son was about to say to her.

"He would rape them and then flay them," Robb concluded and Catelyn took a deep breath. "Isabelle tried to plead with him to stop when she found out. He gave her the same punishment as the other women before his father stopped him and told him to leave her be. She lost their babe and took moon tea whenever he tried to get her with child."

"I cannot give her up," Robb shook his head after a few moments of silence. "I cannot give her up and the people of the Dreadfort cannot live in fear of Lord Bolton's bastard."

Catelyn nodded her agreement before biting down on her bottom lip, wondering if this was a good time to urge her son to leave the matter. Everything was so unsure at this moment in time, especially with the power of the Lannisters looming over them. They could not afford to lose the support of the Boltons. They were influential to the North...and, Gods forbid, would be needed if war broke out.

"Does Isabelle still know if he is still hurting women?"

"That is not the point," Robb said. "The point is that father is the Warden of the North. He is Lord Bolton's liege lord."

"And your father is in King's Landing," Catelyn said. "I shall speak with him when I go there, but I shall not have you marching to the Dreadfort when we are vulnerable at this moment in time."

"But father-"

"-Your father is not here," Catelyn said. "Do you honestly think Lord Bolton would allow you to drag his only son from his home and have him hung for what he has done?"

"It is more than he deserves."

"Perhaps," Catelyn couldn't help but agree with him on that matter. "But I fear what would happen then, Robb. Lord Bolton is a powerful man...and a leech at that. It is unwise to go against him whilst your father is gone. You are merely a boy. I would not see you hurt for rushing over to the Dreadfort to extract revenge for Isabelle."

"She does not wish for me to go," Robb mumbled and stood up, looking to the sky for a few moments.

Catelyn remained seated and sat upright, looking at her son who was slowly turning into a man before her own eyes. Yet she did not wish him to make manly decisions; not whilst Ned was gone.

"She fears that he will find her again and take her back to the Dreadfort," Robb said. "I suspect her fears are not misplaced."

"I would suspect so too," Catelyn agreed with him. "You would rush to the Dreadfort with haste which would cost you dearly."

"And so I just sit and wait?" Robb checked, despair in his voice and Catelyn stood, running her hands down his shoulders. "How can any man treat a woman with such disrespect?"

"Not all men are equal," Catelyn deliberated her words carefully. "I do not know what I can suggest to you, Robb. I have met this girl all of a handful of times. I do not know her, but I know that she must be special for her to hold your affections."

"She is," Robb promised his mother. "I cannot give her up. I cannot leave her."

"I see that," Catelyn sighed and then came up with a compromise. "We shall discuss this when I return...when your brother's fall is solved...your father will know what to do about Lord Bolton's bastard and I shall heed his counsel."

Robb nodded in agreement, knowing that his mother was trying to be generous with her proposition. He would agree to her terms. She hugged him tightly then, her chin on his shoulder as she whispered into his ear;

"You are my first born and I love you truly...and I wish...I wish nothing but happiness for you...and one day...one day you will have it. I promise you that."

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading! Pretty please do let me know what you think as it really is encouraging!


	7. Chapter 7

"You told your mother!"

Isabelle could scarcely control her anger as she and Robb stood in his chamber that evening. Winterfell was quiet, especially now that his mother had left and Bran was still sleeping. Robb had done his best to be the acting Lord of Winterfell, dealing the problems which his people faced, but all he could think about was returning to Isabelle in the evening.

He should have known that she would not have handled the news well. Not that he could blame her. She had sworn him to secrecy and he was already planning attacking the Dreadfort and exposing the Boltons for the murderous family they were.

"She came to seek you out this morning to make sure you were alright after the fire," Robb told Isabelle. "I was still in bed with you. We did well for her not to question us then and there."

"But you told her about Ramsay," Isabelle worried. "You told her who I really was after I pleaded with you to keep my secret."

Robb shook his head, his hair falling into his face and he ran his hand over his chin, feeling the stubble which was slowly growing there. Isabelle folded her arms over her chest and patiently waited for him to answer her or tell her something.

"But what about the other women?" Robb dared to ask her. "What about the ones who don't escape him? They do not deserve to live in fear of Roose Bolton's bastard and you know that Isabelle. My father is supposed to protect the North from acts like this."

Isabelle could not deny that he had a point on that matter. He was speaking sense and that was the part which worried her. She would often think back to the women who suffered Ramsay's wrath, but she knew that she could not protect them against him. She could do nothing and he would not allow her to try.

"I know," Isabelle mumbled and sank down to sit on his bed, leaning forwards and wrapping her arms around her stomach. She couldn't deny that she felt sick at the mere thought of what Ramsay could do. "And I...I remember them...I remember what he used to do to them. I have seen it, Robb, but your mother is right. You cannot go against the Boltons right now."

Robb ground his teeth together and Isabelle stood once more and moved over to look out of his window into the darkness, remembering what rested further North. Never before had she seen so much pain and suffering in her life.

"Ramsay is careful not to let anyone see his activities. The people of the Dreadfort never thought to speak out against him," Isabelle spoke. "He would wonder who told you of his ways."

Robb took hesitant steps towards Isabelle, stretching his hand out to rest it on her shoulder. She moved her hand to rest on top of his as he stepped closer to her, his arm wrapping around her waist and he felt her press her cheek against his chest.

"He thinks that you are dead," Robb reminded her. "It would stay that way. He would not have a chance to ask who told me."

Isabelle shook her head and turned to look at Robb, a small smile playing on her face. The act was forced; Robb could see that much from her. She took a second to run her hand down his cheek soothingly.

"Just wait for word from your father," she urged him. "That is the only thing to do."

Robb reluctantly nodded. He had no interest in starting a feud whilst his father was gone. That was not the right thing to do. He would keep himself as distanced as possible from the Dreadfort. If only he knew that would not be possible.

...

The news shook Winterfell to its very core. It was little more than a week since Bran had awoken from his slumber when it was announced that Ned Stark had been taken captive. The King had died and King Joffrey now reigned. It was then when Robb told Isabelle what he intended to do.

"March South?" she checked with him as the pair of them stood in the shadows of Winterfell during the afternoon.

Robb had been busy with scarcely any time to speak with Isabelle. It was only when he saw her walking through the courtyard did he dismiss Theon and grab hold of her by the arm, pulling her into the shadows by his side. Robb kept her against the wall, his tall figure hiding her.

"Joffrey wants his arse kissed," Robb said crudely and Isabelle cocked a brow at him. "He has my father as a prisoner. I will not have him think that I will bow down to him. I will march South and have him freed."

"You intend to start a war against the Lannisters?" Isabelle checked.

"I will do whatever it takes to free him," Robb said and pushed Isabelle's hair behind her shoulder, his hand then curling around her neck to hold her delicately. "You have to understand that, Isabelle."

"I do," she promised him. "But have you called your bannermen? You cannot fight this alone?"

"Aye," Robb said and she took a second to realise the glint which was in his eye. She nodded, gulping loudly and moving her hands to hold onto his upper arms tightly. She refused to let go of him and Robb did his best to keep her steady on her seemingly weak feet.

"He won't bring Ramsay," Isabelle whispered, looking around with hesitance and Robb bent down to kiss the top of her head tenderly. "Ramsay may be a bastard, but he will not leave the Dreadfort unattended."

"That is my hope," Robb said, his jaw firmly set as he thought about what he would say once he saw Lord Bolton. It would give Robb more pleasure to have him stay at the Dreadfort, but he needed all the men he could gather. The Dreadfort was a vast place, full of able men. Robb did this for his father. After his father was a free man; then he would extract revenge.

"And my father?" Isabelle wondered. "Has he answered your raven?"

Robb pursed his lips together and nodded at her. He wondered how much she really cared for her parents after they had ignored her pleas for help.

"Your father is sending his men, but he is unwell, Isabelle," Robb warned her. "Your mother was the one to reply to my raven. She did not say what illness he was diagnosed with...only that he was too ill to go to war..."

Isabelle nodded and leant back against the wall, feeling her head begin to pound. Robb kept his hands firmly on her waist and she dropped hers by her sides, a smile of disbelief on her lips.

"It's odd," she whispered. "I feel nothing for him...not even when I hear that he could be dead before the week has finished..."

"Your parents sold you to a sadist," Robb replied. "I can see why you do not care for them as much as you wish you could. You have nothing to feel sorry about, Isabelle."

She bit down on her bottom lip then and nodded her agreement with him. She didn't particularly wish to discuss her parents with Robb. She knew that it would only anger her as much as it seemed to anger him. She recalled his relationship with his mother and she wished that she could have had that.

"I would keep you in my chamber whilst the bannermen are here," Robb said. "I do not want Lord Bolton to notice you."

Isabelle nodded. "And when you march South? What would you have of me then?"

Robb knew that this conversation had been bound to come up in conversation. Isabelle swiftly moved upwards to press her lips against his, knowing what he was probably say to her. War was no place for a woman, especially not when her husband's father was going to be in close proximity. Robb could sense the urgency in her actions and he continued to press his lips against hers before pulling back for breath.

"I can help in the battlements," Isabelle promised him, taking hold of his hands.

The thought of him going off to war without her was not a notion she wanted to entertain. It was a notion which Robb would enforce though. He shook his head hastily.

"No," he said sternly. "I need for you to stay in Winterfell. War is no place for you. What would you do, Isabelle? I have men who can cook for us and men who can heal the sick."

"Do you wish for me to plead with you?" Isabelle wondered.

"I wish to come home and see that you are still alive," Robb gruffly informed her and she did her best to hold her tongue. "I am serious, Isabelle. I would not see you harmed."

"I would not come into war with you," Isabelle responded. "I would if I could, believe me, but I know that I am unable. All that I ask is for you to let me come and help. I can tend to the injured...I have read about it in multiple books...different things..."

"No," Robb said firmly. "We are not having this discussion, Isabelle. You will stay here and wait for my return. That is it."

"And is this an order?" Isabelle wondered, recalling all of the times she had been ordered around by Ramsay. How many times had he demanded her to do things for him? How many times had she detested every single demand which left his mouth?

"Yes," Robb curtly snapped and Isabelle pushed past him, moving his body to the side as she stormed through the courtyard, ignoring his yells for her to return to him. She continued to move, unsure of where she was going as she decided to take a walk through the village. It was only when she came to the gates did she see the horses approaching.

She looked to the banner and fear instantly took a hold of her. The flayed man of House Bolton.

Isabelle stood still as they passed out of respect, bowing her head down to hide her face. She could make out the figure of Roose Bolton moving forwards. She peeled her eyes up and saw his tall figure, the coldness of his eyes glancing over her as though she were a lowborn. She bent her head then, his pale eyes enough to scare her. Roose's orbs narrowed at the sight of her, but he said nothing, allowing his horse to trot forwards.

He could not help but think of how striking her resemblance was to that of the Lady Eleanor.

...

Isabelle did her best to ignore Robb, refusing to go and hide in his chambers whilst a great feast went on in order to discuss the preparations needed for war. Robb did not look for Isabelle, his anger getting the best of him at the end of the day. He went to see to Bran and Rickon before he left for battle and Isabelle remained in the kitchen.

She sat at the table in the serving staff's quarters. The smell of food still lingered in the room and the fire still roared from the firewood in the fireplace. Isabelle remained seated, the sound of boots not once disturbing her from her thoughts.

"Excuse me."

She looked up then, turning her head over her shoulder and feeling the blood drain from her face to leave it pale. His own eyes swept over her and she stood up, her hands holding her skirts and she dipped into a sloppy curtsey.

"My Lord," she spoke and Roose Bolton continued to look at her with wonder.

"M'lord," he corrected her suddenly and she remained dipped with her head held low. Roose took a seat at the table, doing his best to satisfy his interest in the girl. He had been thinking of her ever since he saw her at the gates. There was something in her stare which made him remember her.

"Apologies," Isabelle replied. "What can I do for you, my lord?"

"And how does a serving girl know how to speak properly?" Roose wondered suddenly and Isabelle looked to him as he sat at the table, a knowing look held on his face.

Isabelle gulped for breath and remained where she was. "My parents taught me manners," she responded.

"And what were their names?"

Isabelle faltered and a smirk played on his face before he stood up and moved over to her, taking hold of her chin and holding it firmly in his grasp. Isabelle didn't bother to squirm as Roose moved the back of his hand down her blonde curls, twirling them in his fingertips as he moved his other hand to the laces of her dress.

"Did you honestly think that I didn't recognise you when I saw you?" Roose wondered. "How long were you married to my son?"

"I don't know what-"

"-I suspect you can drop the act now," he assured her, pulling her laces loose and allowing her dress to pool to her feet, leaving her in her underclothes. "There is only one certain way to make sure that you are her."

Roose turned her in his grasp and moved his hands to the shoulders of her underclothes and peeled them from her skin. Isabelle tried to fight, the action completely wasted as Roose looked at her back, noting the scars which remained there.

A smirk played on his face and he allowed her to go free.

"Get dressed," he demanded and sat back down in his seat, folding one leg over the other as Isabelle pulled her dress onto her body, her eyes on the ground and she felt tears swell in her orbs. Worry took hold of her and Roose looked to his fingernails as though they were more interesting in comparison to the girl who was lacing her dress over her body again.

"Lady Eleanor," Roose spoke her true name. "How surprising it is to find you alive and at Winterfell posing as a maid."

Isabelle said nothing, recoiling from her true name and Roose motioned to the chair which she had sat at before he had disturbed her.

"Sit down," he demanded and she did so, her motions cautious and she folded her hands onto her lap. "When I saw you at the gate I couldn't forget your face. You always did have a generous face. Ramsay always told me that he would leave you pretty. Your suicide ate him up."

"I doubt it," Isabelle replied lowly.

Roose glowered, but ignored her comment. "I had to come down here to be sure that you were her before I sent you back to your rightful place."

Isabelle shook her head at him, refusing to go anywhere with Roose Bolton.

"I am a maid of Winterfell-"

"-You are scarcely a maid," Roose said. "You said the vows to my son and you are to honour them. I cannot promise you that Ramsay will be kind once you return to the Dreadfort. The Gods know that my son has grown crueller through the years. Be fortunate that he does not set his bitches onto you. He has more respect than that for the woman he married."

"No," Isabelle shook her head, standing up and preparing to flee from Bolton. It was only when she rushed to the staircase did she see three of his men already stood there, waiting for her.

She turned back to look at Roose and he stood slowly, nodding at her.

"You shall go back to him and you shall do your duty to him as a wife," he informed her. "He never did a get son out of you."

"Please," Isabelle tried. "Speak to Lord Robb-"

"-And why would Lord Robb care?" Roose enquired. "You have lied and been deceitful. I would care to know how you faked your own death, but I assume the Maester had something to do with it. You two always were close."

"Lord Robb will tell you," Isabelle spoke as she felt two men grab hold of her arms. "Please, Lord Bolton...you know your son..."

"Aye," Bolton agreed, pulling his leather gloves from his pocket to slip them over his fingers. "And I know that he will be most happy to have you back where you belong. Do your best to please him, Lady Eleanor. I fear he is becoming more and more...well...unpleasant..."

"No," Isabelle sobbed, tears falling down her face as she did so. "Please...do not..."

Her pleas were silenced as a man pressed a hand over her mouth and another pulled the cork from a bottle of vial of some sort. He pressed it against her mouth and she slowly felt herself growing sleepy as Lord Bolton stood in front of her, his hand on her cheek and he kissed her forehead tenderly.

"If only you had stayed," were his last words. "You could have avoided this pain."

...

A/N: So thank you to everyone who is following and to jean d'arc and Kathy for reviewing the previous chapter. It would be great if you could leave me a review, just to say what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

It was the following day when Robb heard of what Lord Bolton had done. He had not seen Isabelle before he left. He had scoured the castle for her, looking in her chamber and anywhere else he could think of. He didn't want to leave her with bad feelings between them. He wanted to make it up to her. He wanted to apologise to her, but promise her that he did everything he did so that he could keep her safe.

"My Lord," Roose suddenly spoke as the dawn broke, the sun streaming over them.

The men were travelling as far South as possible before setting up the encampment. Robb knew that the majority of them would be tired by the time afternoon came. They had left in the middle of the night, Robb's mind still filled with Isabelle. He had to return to Winterfell to be with her again. It was what he had to do.

"Lord Bolton," Robb's tone was curt with the man.

He knew that he had to remain civil to keep the support of House Bolton, but he didn't particularly care for pleasantries. He knew what this man was capable of and Robb intended to spend as much time as possible away from him.

"I would have told you of this earlier," Lord Bolton informed Robb, "but my men were very cautious about going into this war and they needed my reassurances."

Robb's brow quirked as he sat on his horse and looked straight ahead of him to where the men carrying the Stark banners sat atop of their horses.

"And what event is this?"

"I could scarcely believe it myself," Roose said, his lips pulling up in as much of a smirk as he could manage. Roose was not someone to show true emotion. Emotion was a weakness which he could not afford. "It was then I rode into Winterfell when I noticed her."

Robb's blood ran cold then. He could feel his mind begin to turn into a daze whilst he turned lightheaded. He looked back to Roose, his eyes wide and he waited for an answer from him. Robb didn't know if he wanted to know, but he could scarcely stay in the dark on the matter.

"My son...well...bastard," Roose's lips twisted around the word, "he had a wife. She was a pretty little thing from House Bolton. Lady Eleanor was her name. Anyway, I rode into Winterfell last night and I spotted her. I wasn't certain that it was her until I spoke with her that evening. She confirmed everything for me."

Robb gulped loudly and shook his head back and forth, his hands clenching tightly around the reins, his knuckles turning white.

"And what did you do?" Robb asked.

"I told my men to return her to the Dreadfort," Roose spoke nonchalantly. "She faked her own suicide and left Ramsay a widower."

"You should not have sent her away without my knowledge," Robb snapped, anger coursing through his veins.

Roose looked at him quizzically, doing his best to weigh up what Robb was currently thinking. Nothing came to mind as the young Lord glowered, doing his best not to unsheathe his sword and demand Roose return her back to Winterfell.

"She is his wife," Roose reminded Robb. "She spoke the vows and now she is his. She should not have been foolish to run away in the first place. Her act was deceitful and traitorous."

Robb didn't want to speak his mind. He knew that it would only end with the Boltons withdrawing their support from him. But he did not want Isabelle left at their mercy. No, Robb had a plan which would bring her back. He had to do something. Doing nothing would only leave her in danger if what she said had been fully accurate.

"I would have appreciated you coming to me before you took Isabelle," Robb said and Roose's brows furrowed, knitting together in confusion and then finally understanding. Roose had never seen that look before on his own face. He had only seen it on others features. The look of longing and despair.

"Isabelle?" he checked with Robb. "Is that the name she was posing under? And how long did it take before you were between her legs?"

Robb stopped his horse from trotting as soon as he heard Roose's crude words. He took another second to compose his thoughts as men began to move around them, looking to the pair of them with wonder. Surely they could not be arguing already?

"I can see the expression you hold. You thought that she was a serving wench you could have your fun with. What did she tell you? Did she tell you the truth?"

Robb's jaw remained set and he refused to say anything to Roose.

"Ramsay only mistreated her once...well...that I know of," Roose spoke. "I know what my son is. I know that he is not as innocent as I would believe. The truth of the matter is that Lady Eleanor is his wife. You cannot claim her back for your own for she does not belong to you."

Robb bit down on his tongue and then spoke, his voice low and gravelly. "I know what he does," Robb threatened Roose. "I know how sadistic he is."

"You'll find no proof of it," Roose promised Robb. "Now, you can keep the support of House Bolton and bring your family back home, or you could throw it away and march further North to find Eleanor, but I can assure you that you would not bring your family home that way."

Robb wanted the latter option. He wanted nothing more than to move back North and save Isabelle as well as save his family. He didn't want any of this. He wished his father had never become the Hand of the King. It would have been so much easier.

"At the end of the day she is Ramsay's wife," Roose promised Robb. "Nothing you can do will change that."

"Your son needs to be brought to justice," Robb growled.

"No," Roose chuckled. "You just want Eleanor's legs spread open for you at any opportunity you get. Going against me will not get you that, but going with me will not get you her back either. She was never yours to have, Lord Robb."

Roose trotted off and Robb remained where he was on his horse, throwing his head back to look behind him and to the road which led North. He would send some men that night to take her back. He had trustworthy ones who would not question him. Those were the best ones to send for Robb knew that he had no right to steal Isabelle back.

Roose Bolton was right. She never could be his so long as Ramsay lived.

...

The Dreadfort was as dark and as cold as Isabelle had remembered. Her entire body shook with fear as they entered the fortress's high walls and Isabelle was pushed down from the horse she had sat upon. Three men had been sent to escort her back to the Dreadfort and they had scarcely been pleasant to her. They seemed to take pleasure in knowing that she was to be harmed once she arrived. They could scarcely continue their laughs.

She wondered if they were Ramsay's own personal men. The Bastard Boys had always been Ramsay's closes confidants when he needed them to torture someone or do his dirty work for him. She had been untied from the ropes which bound her as they neared the Dreadfort.

She could see the villagers stood to the side, each one of them narrowing their eyes and wondering if the woman approaching could be the Lady Eleanor. She kept her gaze low before she felt herself being pulled down from the horse. The man deposited her in the mud and the bottom of her blue gown trailed in the mud. Her cloak dirtied too, but she failed to notice that as she saw him.

He was just like she remembered. He stood by the doorway into the servant's quarters and the kitchens instead of the main door. His eyes were set on her, the coldness of their blue colour piercing through her. Isabelle could feel her own fear begin to set in.

His lips were still plump and pulled up into a smile which Isabelle knew was cold and not meant to be warm. He slowly moved closer to her and she remained stood on the spot, waiting for him to approach.

"My darling Eleanor!" he called out and Isabelle knew that he was being insincere. He had never been capable of true emotions. The villagers who had gathered gasped lowly as Ramsay stood before her, his large hands wrapping tightly around her upper arms before he bent his head towards her, his mouth landing on hers forcefully.

She remained still, closing her eyes tightly whilst his tongue invaded her mouth and his lips coated hers. He pulled back then and Isabelle felt his warm breath hit her cheek as he cupped her neck and she shivered.

"You're scared of me," he noted and she kept silent as he ran a free hand through his dark floppy hair. A smile pulled up on his lips as Isabelle kept her eyes on his boots. He gently placed a fingertip underneath her chin and tilted her head up, moving her gaze over his hulking form to look him in the eye again.

"You should be," he whispered lowly enough for no one else to hear.

Taking her by the hand, Ramsay looked at the villagers who stood around, piercing them with his gaze. Isabelle didn't even bother to attempt to escape his grip. She knew that it would do her no good. Ramsay would only hurt her further.

"The Lady Eleanor has returned!" Ramsay rejoiced. "My beloved wife...back where she belongs!"

Everyone muttered something under their breath as Ramsay took Isabelle by the wrist and dragged her back to the doorway into the corridor. She did her best to keep up with his long strides, feebly failing as she almost tripped over her own two feet and Ramsay ground his teeth together as he slammed the door shut.

It was only then when Isabelle noted the empty corridor as Ramsay locked the door, refusing to allow any servants inside. The other two doorways at either end of the corridor were guarded by men and it was then when Isabelle knew that Ramsay could not wait to have his revenge on her.

"I had contemplated taking you straight to the dungeon," Ramsay said, his hand still on the lock to the door as his dark voice entered her ears and she backed away to the opposite wall, her palms pressing flat against it as though it would swallow her whole.

"I wanted to," Ramsay promised her. "I still might."

He turned around to look at her then, his brow arching as he shrugged; "Nothing to say, my love?"

Isabelle couldn't even think of any words to leave her mouth. It was then when Ramsay moved closer to her, slapping her across the face with the back of his hand. Isabelle yelped in pain as she fell to the floor and stayed there, her hair covering her stinging cheek as Ramsay looked down at her.

"Do you know the rumours which spread, Eleanor?" he wondered from her, grabbing her hair from the top of her head and hauling her to her feet. "My miserable and depressed wife killed herself...some said you did it because you could not conceive a child...others thought that I neglected you in the marriage bed for whores...they should have known that I never neglected you..."

Ramsay shoved her to sit down in a cove, unlacing his breeches as Isabelle regained her balance on the ledge and then tried to push past Ramsay. He kept her in the hidden corner before pulling her skirts up to her waist and standing in between her legs.

"I never hurt you like I sometimes wished," Ramsay told her, tearing her underclothes down her legs. She struggled against him, only to be silenced when she felt him enter her. She groaned in pain and Ramsay kept her hands gathered in his, holding them above her head against the wall as he thrust once and she began to sob.

"I hurt you once," Ramsay said, his mouth by her ear and his stubble irritating her skin as he bit down on the lobe of her ear. She shuddered as he moved again. He smirked as he continued to thrust inside of her.

"I hurt you once and it was more than you deserved. Apart from that...I asked you to be dutiful, Eleanor...I asked you to obey me..."

"No," Isabelle complained as he stilled inside of her and moved his hands from hers, cupping her cheeks which were covered by her blonde hair. He held her face tightly before lowering his mouth to hers and capturing her in a chaste kiss.

"And now you came back," Ramsay smirked. "When father sent word I could scarcely believe it."

He began to move again and Isabelle remained limp in his hold as he moved one of his hands to the small of her back, pressing her tightly against him as he groaned lowly. His other hand cupped the back of her head, cradling it in between his neck and shoulder, feeling her soft hair against his skin.

"I sent for the Maester who had pronounced you dead," Ramsay whispered, his hand still in the small of her back. "I asked him how he did it and he told me everything...he told me all about the moon tea you took to rid yourself of my children...he told me how you faked your own death...that was before I flayed him alive and his skin now decorates the dungeon."

Isabelle felt Ramsay gasp for breath as he finished inside of her and she winced at the feeling. He pulled out from her, dropping her skirts over her lap as he bent down to run his hand down her cheek.

"Next time I take you," Ramsay spoke in a hushed tone, "I will not be as gentle. I promise you that."

He could see the fear inside of her eyes and his plump lips turned upwards at the sight of it.

"Close your legs," he demanded her. "I don't want my wife looking like a whore."

Isabelle did as he had said whilst he turned away from her and walked away. She remained sat in the cove, pulling her skirts down her legs to cover herself up. Isabelle took another moment to watch him as he disappeared from sight.

"Don't wander too far," he demanded from her. "I want you nicely dressed for dinner. I have a special treat for you."

...

A/N: So thank you to KeelsC and Heartless-Princess33 for reviewing the previous chapter! Hope the update was quick enough. I now have a few followers but not many people reviewing so please do let me know what you think so far as it would mean a lot to me!


	9. Chapter 9

The maids ignored Isabelle as though she was the plague. They ran her a bath and allowed her privacy to wash herself. She cleaned the blood from her thighs and the dirt from her skin before looking around the room which she and Ramsay shared. Nothing had changed since her absence; her perfumes and jewellery still decorated the dressing table

Her clothes were still in the wardrobe and her nightgown was already neatly folded at the end of the four poster bed. Isabelle had dismissed the maids, telling them that she could ready herself. She did not want them to look at her as though she was a naive fool. She already knew that.

Isabelle caught her reflection in the mirror as she climbed from the tub, draping a sheet over her body to cover herself before moving over to the wardrobe. She opened both doors and wondered which gown to wear. Choosing the red one, she slipped her body into it and reached for her back in a feeble attempt to pull at the laces.

"Eleanor."

Isabelle looked back to the doorway which had just opened. The sight of Ramsay closing the wood was enough to make her shudder. She continued to pull at the laces, her eyes firmly set on Ramsay as he gave her a sinister smile.

"You look ravishing," Ramsay grinned widely, moving to his wife to kiss her on her forehead. "But why did you dismiss your maids? Aren't they supposed to help you dress?"

"I do not need them," Isabelle responded and Ramsay chuckled, moving to stand behind her. He firmly placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her stood still. She felt his hands pull tightly at the laces, firmly fastening her into her dress so that she could scarcely breathe.

"No," Ramsay spoke, each tug hurting her even further. "You were a serving wench for a year, weren't you? You should know how to serve. It is a shame that you never served me like I wished."

"It's a shame that you never treated me like a wife instead of your whore," Isabelle replied, unable to stop herself.

It was then when Ramsay's hands stilled tying her laces. She felt his fingertips slowly ghost around her front, his fingers splaying over her stomach to hold her to him. She remained mute, Ramsay's lips trailing down her neck.

"You forget, Eleanor," Ramsay spoke, his voice low and dangerous against her skin. "You are a whore."

Isabelle closed her eyes as his hand cupped her breast and she took a few moments before daring to turn in his hold, his arms still around her and she leaned back, trying to get as far away as possible from him. His touch was enough to make her shudder and long for the safety of Robb and Winterfell. That was all she wanted. She wanted Robb back. She wanted him back and she wanted the simpler times.

"I just don't pay you with coins," Ramsay shrugged at her. "Now, are you ready for dinner?"

Isabelle felt her mouth dry up as he continued to stare at her with intensity. How she hated it. How she hated him. She doubted she could begin to put into words just how scared she was. But there was a part of her which was determined not to let him walk all over her. She had changed from the scared little girl. She had to be different. She just had to be.

"I need to brush my hair," Isabelle said and Ramsay let her go.

He took a seat on the end of their bed, his hands roaming the fine sheets which sat on top of the mattress. He watched as she took a seat on the bench to the dressing table, her eyes set on the mirror as she picked her brush up and tugged it through her blonde tresses.

"I wrote to your parents," Ramsay spoke clearly and Isabelle winced, doing her best to hide the motion. "I told them of your failed escape. Your father is ill and your mother should not be far behind him. Perhaps when they are dead then I shall take you back to Bardtower. I suspect I shall become its new Lord."

Isabelle wondered what her parents would think to that. She was their only living heir and she supposed they had been more upset about her death because she could not inherit Bardtower. She had never really liked staying there. It was as cold and dark as the Dreadfort and her parents had personalities to match it.

"Nothing to say?"

"No," Isabelle replied. "Nothing I say will interest you, anyway. It never did."

Ramsay folded his hands together and leant forwards, his brow arching as he looked at his wife in the mirror and she found his sadistic eyes. The glare he sent her was enough to make her consider trying to overpower him and escape again. The Dreadfort was known to be impenetrable, but she had escaped once before.

"You seem to forget your place, my wife," Ramsay spoke. "What happened to you at Winterfell? I used to be able to make you submissive to my every whim...especially after the flaying I gave you...do the scars still bother you?"

Isabelle stood up once she had her hair hung loosely around her face. She kept her hands by her sides as she dropped her hairbrush onto her dressing table. She looked at Ramsay and shook her head slowly.

"I do not let them bother me," she promised him. "Why do you insist on keeping me here? You and I both know that this marriage is a sham. You never wanted me-"

"-But you wanted me," Ramsay spoke lowly back to her, pushing himself to his feet once more as he recalled the time when he had first met her. She had been a shy and meek thing, blushing whenever he paid her a compliment at the feast. It was only when her parents left her did she see his true colours.

"Do you think that I don't remember?" Ramsay asked and Isabelle bowed her head, ashamed to admit she had ever contemplated being happy with a monster like Ramsay. She should have known better. She truly should have known better. "I remember the first night when the feast was thrown in your family's honour. I danced with you all night and your cheeks turned red every time I paid you a compliment...every time I touched you lightly..."

Isabelle scoffed. "And look how it turned out, Ramsay," she snarled back, forgetting titles with the man in front of her. "You turned out to be a monster. Do you know how foolish I felt for trying to get you to change? I tried my best but it was never enough."

Ramsay looked at her with annoyance then. She prepared herself for another slap across her face to make her tumble towards the ground. She prepared for him to yell at her, demand for her not to make a fool of herself. He had always warned her not to show him up at any event which they attended.

"A monster?" Ramsay checked with her, taking her by her upper arm and dragging her from their chambers. "Do you honestly think me a monster? I merely extract justice..."

"You kill innocent people," Isabelle replied, trying to push his finger from her but failing miserably for his grip simply increased on her. "I have seen you kill those women, Ramsay! I have seen you chase them into the woods-"

"-Shut up!" Ramsay demanded from her and stood still in the corridor, his hands tugging his hair as he tried to regain his composure in front of her. Why did she do this to him? Why did she force him to the verge of hysteria? Could she not see what she did to him?

Isabelle winced as Ramsay took her by the throat and pressed her against the cold stone wall. She quivered against his body before she felt his hand loosen around her, the look on his face still harsh. She remained still, glaring at him whilst he stood in front of her, his hand running down her neck and along her collarbone.

"You are my wife," he whispered to her, looking her in the eye forcefully. "Why do you test me, Eleanor? Why do you go against everything that I do? My father has warned me that I need to be careful with you...like you're some little doll...but you make it so hard..."

Isabelle leant against the wall whilst Ramsay tucked her hair behind her ear. She was waiting for him to do something in contrast to his tender movement. That was what Ramsay did best. He would be sweet one moment and then brutal the next.

"Now," Ramsay spoke, "will you be quiet now and do as I say?"

"Yes," Isabelle responded, wondering what more she could say to him. She didn't particularly want to argue with Ramsay.

He took her hand then and entwined his fingers within hers, walking down the corridors as though she were his prize. He kept his arm bumping against hers before she saw him turn away from the Great Hall, taking the direction towards the dungeon.

"Ramsay," Isabelle whispered his name, "why are we going towards the dungeon?"

"It's your surprise, my love," Ramsay spoke, looking down at her with glee as he led her down a narrow staircase towards the dungeon. The smell entered her nostrils and Isabelle wrinkled her nose, her stomach churning as they came to the bottom of the staircase.

It was dark in the dungeon and Isabelle could scarcely see anything. Ramsay moved with haste, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her against his broad chest. It was then when she saw the woman strapped to the wood in the middle of the wood. Isabelle gasped once she saw the woman's face, doing her best not to wretch as Ramsay ran his hands over her stomach.

"Do you remember her?" Ramsay whispered, whispering in her ear. "I thought you would. I kept her alive after you died...but now...now I have no reason to, do I?"

She shook her head, the sight of the girl on the cross enough to make Isabelle turn around and plead for her life. She placed her hands onto his broad shoulders as he kept his hands on her waist, looking at her as tears pricked in her eyes.

"Please don't," Isabelle pleaded. "Merika is innocent, Ramsay. She did nothing to help me escape...she really did nothing...please..."

Ramsay looked over her shoulder to the snivelling brunette on the wood, her head bowed and her hair falling into her face, plastering against her cheeks which were wet with tears. The girl was only ten and three years, much younger than Isabelle.

"She is the one then?" Ramsay checked with his wife. "The one who you used to teach how to read and write? The cook's daughter?"

"You know that she is," Isabelle replied, throwing her head over her shoulder to look at the girl, wondering what pain Ramsay had already inflicted upon her. Was this his way of punishing her? He would do it through other people?

"And would you do anything to keep her safe, Eleanor?" Ramsay checked. "I had her flayed on the back of her legs and you should have heard her screams."

Isabelle stifled a sob and she lowered her head, the top of it, hitting Ramsay's chest and he felt his wife's body sob. Slowly, he drew her into his arms, running his hands down her back in a slow motion. Isabelle knew that she had no other option but to let him run his hands over her as he spoke;

"I cannot trust you, Eleanor," he whispered, his chin on the top of her head. "You know that and so do I. You ran away from me once before; who is to say that you won't do it again?"

Isabelle kept silent as Ramsay bent down to her height, his large palms engulfing her cheeks and his thumbs wiped away her tears which fell from her eyes.

"This girl can keep her life so long as you do as I say," Ramsay said. "I need some leverage over you, don't I? Besides, you don't want to anger me, do you?"

Isabelle shook her head and Ramsay took her hand again, leading her to a chair by a metal gate. He sat Isabelle down and knelt behind her, his hands holding her shoulders tightly to keep her in place.

"Look at her," Ramsay urged Isabelle. "Look at her and watch what will happen if you disobey me."

"No!" Isabelle snapped as she saw two hooded men move into the room. Ramsay's grip increased on his wife before he stood up, refusing to let her get away. He moved around the chair and picked her up, depositing her on his lap, securely hooking his arm around her waist to stop her from trying to escape him.

"You promised nothing would happen to her...please..." Isabelle pleaded as Merika began to sob and scream loudly, fear of the men raging through her body.

"I think one more lesson needs to be taught," Ramsay whispered, kissing the side of her neck lightly as Merika's screams began to echo through the room. Isabelle closed her eyes as Ramsay groped at her, trying to distract herself and wonder when it would all end.

...

Robb had chosen a group of twelve men to go North to the Dreadfort as his other men set up an encampment. Robb had been angered ever since he had heard of the news of Isabelle's capture. Why had he been so foolish? Why had he argued with her before he left? She could have been safe in his chambers that night. She could have been hidden and Lord Bolton would never have seen her.

But they had argued. They had argued and now she was back with her bastard husband. Robb felt himself sicken.

"You picked your men to go North," Theon's voice suddenly entered Robb's tent.

He looked up and nodded to the ward of Winterfell who he considered to be his brother. He looked at Theon with wonder, hoping that Greyjoy had an answer for him. It was times like these when he longed for his mother. He longed for his parent's wisdom.

"Aye," Robb nodded. "But no one can know of this plan. Lord Bolton would withdraw his support if he were to find out."

"And do you think he will not find out? If your men succeed then they take his daughter in law. If your men fail then he will find out who sent them. You've heard the rumours like I have, Robb. He will torture it from them."

Robb sighed loudly, knowing full well that Theon was right. He just didn't want to think about it. His men could extract Isabelle without Ramsay knowing. She had snuck out once before, why would Ramsay not think that she could do it again?

"I know that she is in danger there, Theon. I told you what the bastard did to her in confidence," Robb recounted their earlier conversation. Robb stood up as Theon poured himself a goblet of wine, draining it quickly in one go.

"And I know that she will probably be suffering," Theon agreed with him. "She seems like a nice girl...she does not deserve what will happen to her..."

"She is his wife," Robb whispered. "He will not treat her with such distaste."

"She is his wife who ran away from her. If he does not have her under lock and key then I will be shocked," Theon responded and sank down to sit in the chair at Robb's desk. "This is a mess, Robb. You cannot lose a war for one girl. Without Lord Bolton then your forces would be weak...the men would see you as weak...not to mention the fact that Lord Bolton has done nothing wrong. The girl is Ramsay's-"

"-She is not a piece of meat!" Robb interrupted, tiring of Theon speaking to him as though he were a fool. Robb knew that he was trading dangerously. He was well aware of that and he did not need reminding. But this was Isabelle. She was the woman he cared for and he wanted her safe. He had promised to keep her safe.

"She is seen as just that," Theon replied in a smaller voice, knowing that Robb was upset. He could see that much and he could not blame him. Theon had never felt anything for a woman, but he could imagine how Robb felt.

"Nothing can make this any better," Theon assured his friend and Robb sat back down on the bed in his room. He took a few moments before he ran his hands down his cheeks. "And I can see that you are suffering, Robb...but I know that you cannot go North to bring her back..."

"I could," Robb mumbled back, "I would just lose all of my men and that's not wise."

"No," Theon replied. "There is nothing to make any of this any better."

And that was the part which killed Robb.

...

A/N: So only one review for the previous chapter, but thank you to Minii for the review. Please do let me know what you think as it really does mean a lot! Hope the updates aren't coming too fast!


	10. Chapter 10

Isabelle felt numb as she continued to sit on Ramsay's lap, his arms still around her body as he held her to him. Merika had been dragged away and sent back to her mother. Ramsay had not been bothered to move, the smell of blood still lingering in the air as he ran his hands down his wife's side as if it soothed her.

She remained silent, her hands shaking in her lap as Merika's sobs continued to echo within her ears. She did her best not to allow the bile to rise up her throat, knowing that it would come soon enough. The time would come when she was physically sick because Ramsay had done something. Bowing her head, Ramsay moved his chin and rested it on her head.

"Do you know now, Eleanor?" he whispered to her. "Do you know that it will be easier for you if you simply do as I say?"

Isabelle shook her head back and forth, knowing full well that it would not get easier. Being with Ramsay never got easier. She often wondered why he was what he was. How had he become so cruel? Since when did he turn into such a sadistic human? Isabelle didn't know.

"Will it?" she wondered from him, trying to push herself from his lap. "You said that to me before all of this and it never became easy...none of it is easy...and you know that, Ramsay," Isabelle complained to him. "Just...please...let me go..."

Ramsay's grip on her increased, his fingers digging into her flesh uncomfortably. She withered in pain whilst Ramsay looked to her, shaking his head back and forth as a sigh escaped his lips, the hot breath hitting Isabelle on her cheek.

"My father sent me a message," Ramsay suddenly told her, ignoring her pleas. "I didn't want it to distract from the fun we were going to have down here. He told me of your time in Winterfell...your time with the one they call Lord Stark nowadays..."

Her spine stiffened as Ramsay trailed his finger down her cheek, wiping away a tear which had left its mark there. She sniffed loudly as Ramsay looked to the ceiling and chuckled.

"Did you honestly think that he loved you? Was that it, Eleanor? You ran away and fell for the first man who gave you a little bit of attention?"

"No!" Isabelle snapped at him, her hands balling into fists as she smacked at his chest. "You need to leave Robb out of this, Ramsay. He didn't know who I was...he didn't know anything..."

"Sh," Ramsay urged her, taking her fists into his grip and holding them against his chest. She remained mute for a few moments, her mind returning to Robb for a few seconds. She remembered how he...well...everything...she remembered everything about him and she suspected that was the part which hurt the most.

"Robb Stark," Ramsay spoke his name in a slow drawl, pressing his lips to the back of Isabelle's hands, the motion too tender to be Ramsay expressing any care for her. She knew how this worked. "Do you think that he misses you? Do you think that he would risk everything he has to come and save you from the Dreadfort?"

Isabelle shook her head, but held her head high, looking Ramsay in the eye for once. "Robb knows what to do, and if this war ever ends then he will come for me."

"And will he have an army to back him up?" Ramsay wondered, sliding Isabelle from his lap.

She stood tall and moved away from Ramsay, doing her best to stay as far away from the cross of wood as possible. Ramsay moved over to it, his hand running down the surface as he looked at it, recalling the time he had his wife strapped to it. There was not a part of him which regretted that decision. It had been the right one.

He only wished that Isabelle would show him some respect like a wife should. Perhaps then he would not treat her as badly.

"You are mine. You sword to the Seven that you would be mine for the rest of time," Ramsay reminded her and she gulped loudly as he turned to lean against the cross, folding his arms across his chest.

Isabelle knew that he spoke sense. "His men know what is right and if he even tries to take you from me...well...he can fully expect to find himself down here..."

Isabelle slowly ran her hand down her arm, the bare skin prickling as nerves took over her. She knew that Ramsay didn't jest about his playroom. He was sadistic and sarcastic, but he usually meant what he said. She nodded slowly as Ramsay continued to stare at her.

"I take it you understand?" Ramsay checked.

"What is there not to understand?" Isabelle blandly replied.

"Excellent," Ramsay clapped his hands together and moved from the cross, his hand moving to take hold of Isabelle's hand. "Now, we will go for dinner. I think there is some rabbit for tonight."

...

Catelyn Stark had never seen her son look so worried. She had never seen him as anxious as he was at that moment in time. Robb was pacing up and down inside of his tent, waiting for his mother to deliver the terms which would allow him to cross the Twins. The support of Walder Frey was not something which Robb wanted, but he knew that he needed it.

But it was when his mother had delivered the terms when Robb felt as though the Old Gods and the New had turned against him. He had never felt so deflated. What more bad luck could come his way? It was when Catelyn delivered the final blow when he felt himself grow lightheaded;

"And you are to marry one of his daughters."

Roose Bolton had been stood to the side, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. He didn't particularly want to converse with Lord Robb. The young wolf was jumped up and full of his own self confidence. Roose knew that it would be his downfall. That and the girl he was currently lusting after. But he could scarcely concern his smirk as he heard Catelyn speak and saw Robb storm from the tent.

"Robb!" Catelyn called after her son, running from the tent to see Robb storming through the encampment. She wondered where he was heading to as she continued to yell his name. She ignored him as he came into the open area of woods, the darkness of the night engulfing him. It wasn't until she heard his sword hitting against wood did she moved over to him, narrowing her eyes for a better view in the dark.

"Robb," she spoke his name again in a softer tone. "Stop this...it will do no good..."

"No," Robb yelled back, "nothing will do any good! She has gone! She has been taken from me and I am powerless to stop it...and now...now you tell me that I have to marry a Frey!"

"You only have to marry if you want to pass."

"And I have to pass," Robb snapped back, his blade hitting the trunk of the sword. "I have to pass to save father and the girls, don't I? That is my duty...it is my duty to marry one of them...I've known for years that I could never be with Isabelle...we both knew it, but not for once did I think that she would be of noble birth...and married to Ramsay Snow..."

Catelyn sighed, the noise soft whilst she saw her son slip his sword into the ground beneath them. His hand remained on the hilt of the weapon, his head bowed and it was only then when she saw him begin to cry. She didn't think that she had ever seen him look so scared or worried. She moved closer to him, her hand running down his back before she hugged him tightly.

"I cannot promise you that it will get easier with time," Catelyn whispered to her son. "I cannot make that promise to you...but you need to know that it could happen. She may be the woman who you truly love-"

"-This isn't about marrying her," Robb interrupted, stepping out of his mother's arms. "This is about her being stuck with Ramsay Snow where I know she isn't safe."

Catelyn shook his head as he heard him speak and then she held him again as he began to allow tears to roll down his eyes one more time.

...

Sleeping besides Ramsay brought her no comfort like it had done with Robb. Her nightgown covered her body whilst Ramsay's arm draped over her waist and his snores echoed around the room. Her eyes remained open wide, set on the only candle inside of the room. Its light flickered and something about it transfixed Isabelle.

It wasn't until there was a loud knock on the door did Ramsay stir from his sleep.

"My Lord!"

Isabelle remained where she was whilst Ramsay sat up, dressed in his breeches whilst his chest remained bare. He ignored Isabelle as she pushed herself to her elbows, turning her eyes to the side so that she could look to him. Ramsay opened the door, doing his best to shake himself from the sleepy state he found himself in.

"What?" Ramsay snarled.

"We found twelve men trying to sneak into the Dreadfort," the man said and Isabelle's brows furrowed as Ramsay held the door open and then narrowed his eyes. "Six are dead but the other six are in the dungeons now."

"Who are they?"

"Stark men. We caught one who had crippled himself during the battle," the guard continued and Isabelle stood up from the bed, her feet cold against the stone floor. She held onto the bedpost, waiting for Ramsay to turn back into the room. "He gave up his identity before we stabbed him in the chest. What would you have us do with the men in the dungeon?"

"Leave them there for the night," Ramsay spoke and Isabelle could sense the glee on his face. "I will punish them in the morning."

"And do you wish for us to send word to Lord Bolton?"

"No!" Isabelle snapped out.

Her word lingered in the air before Ramsay turned his head over his shoulder, looking at Isabelle as she stood there. He couldn't help but smirk at the sight of her. She looked like the innocent virgin dressed in her white nightgown with her blonde hair falling down her face. Her eyes were wide and he could see her bottom lip quivering.

"I shall deal with that," Ramsay promised his guard and slammed the door in his face, locking it again.

Isabelle remained still whilst Ramsay turned back to look at her. "And you would have me let Robb Stark get away with this treatment?" Ramsay checked. "I assume he sent men to bring you back to him...to take what is mine, Eleanor."

"I know," Isabelle replied, "but you know what would happen if you told your father. He would withdraw his support from Robb."

"It is more than he deserves," Ramsay replied, smirking and wondering how he could have some fun with Isabelle about this. He would find a way to torture her even further. "And if the men had succeeded-"

"-I would not have gone," Isabelle interjected, not entirely knowing if she was being honest with herself. "I know that you would have killed Merika...I would not have done it, Ramsay."

Looking unconvinced, Ramsay moved closer towards her and placed his hands on her cheeks, his thumb roaming the skin around her cheekbones slowly. She closed her eyes for a few moments, wondering how Robb could have been so foolish as to send men to the Dreadfort. Did he not know what they said about it?

"And what would you do?" Ramsay whispered. "How badly do you wish to keep Robb Stark alive?"

"I will do anything," Isabelle said without a moment of hesitation and Ramsay couldn't help but wonder why she never offered him the same kind of dedication. "Please...Ramsay..."

Nodding, Ramsay took hold of her hand inside of his; "You will write a letter to Robb Stark and demand that he leave you alone. You are mine, Eleanor. Make sure he knows that."

She was deeply aware that Robb would not believe anything she wrote, especially words declaring her true devotion to Ramsay.

"Yes," Isabelle said and tried to move away, only for Ramsay to grab her wrist with his other hand.

He shook his head back and forth, a sinister smile on his face as he did so. He bent down to kiss her quickly on the lips, the motion harsh and he moved her hand down his body. She remained silent as Ramsay pulled away from her and watched as he moved her hand down to his crotch.

"Did you think that it would be that easy?" Ramsay wondered. "Robb Stark has committed a crime, Eleanor. Did you think that a letter would be enough? Honestly?"

"What do you want?" Isabelle responded as his hands went to her nightgown, tugging at the sleeves on her shoulders. He pulled the material down, watching as it pooled to her waist and then to her feet, revealing her bare form to him.

"I want an heir," Ramsay told her. "I may be a bastard, but my father will soon realise that I am his only living heir. I want an heir to succeed me and it is your duty as a wife to provide me with that."

Isabelle kept quiet as Ramsay tucked her hair behind her ear, his eyes moving down her naked body and he felt himself grow with need of her. It was something that he used to feel every time he saw her. Isabelle nodded at him, realising that she had to do anything he said to keep Robb's forces from abandoning him.

"I want your legs open whenever I demand it," Ramsay told her, the back of his hand moving down her hair. "I want you to obey my every command. I want you not to question me."

"You already demanded that when I saw you flay Merika," Isabelle reminded him and Ramsay squeezed her chin tightly, his teeth bared as he smiled at her.

"Then consider this a second warning," Ramsay replied. "Now lay on the bed like a good little wife."

...

A/N: So thank you to all the followers of this story! And to Steffh6 for reviewing! Not many people seem to be reviewing, but I won't let that stop me from writing the story but a few reviews would be nice to be honest!


	11. Chapter 11

Ramsay liked nothing more than to hear his wife moan as he took her. He enjoyed it even more when he finished inside of her and then panted for breath. There was something about her groans which Ramsay loved to hear. But he had never brought her to the brink of pleasure. He used her for his own means and that was as far at their relationship went.

He rolled off of her once he had finished for the third time that night. Running his hand over his forehead, he took a deep breath whilst she remained still on her back, her hands flat on the mattress underneath her.

"I have to say, Eleanor," he spoke, "you have been more than accommodating tonight. Perhaps I should thank Robb Stark for trying to steal you back."

Isabelle kept silent as she listened to him and he slipped from the bed, silently pulling his breeches back onto his legs. Isabelle stared at the ceiling above her, the pain in between her legs evident even without moving. It took her a few moments to gather the courage to reach for her nightgown to slip it over her head, pulling it over her body to cover herself up.

"I'm always hungry after a good fuck," Ramsay suddenly declared, his shirt covering his chest. "Do you want anything from the kitchen?"

"It is the middle of the night," Isabelle spoke. "There will be no servants down there to cook you anything."

Isabelle laced her nightgown over her chest and pulled her hair over one of her shoulders, her fingers tangling through it and pulling the knots from it. Ramsay nodded at her comment before offering her his hand.

"You were a serving wench, were you not?" he checked with her and she took a few moments to understand that he wanted her to make him something to eat. Inwardly grumbling, Isabelle took his hand, allowing him to haul her to her feet. She groaned in visible pain and Ramsay looked down at her.

"What is it?" he asked; his tone completely uncaring.

"Nothing," Isabelle responded.

She kept her hand inside of Ramsay's hand as he led her through the darkened corridors. She could feel the cold in the air through her white nightgown. She kept on moving, her legs aching and Ramsay kept on looking at her. He could see that she was in pain, but he failed to care about her. She had done her job and that was all he had asked from her. Anything else was not his issue.

"Pork sausage," Ramsay spoke once they entered the kitchen.

The Dreadfort at night was more eerie in comparison to in the light and Isabelle didn't think that was possible. She lit some more candles in the kitchen whilst Ramsay sat down in his seat, his hands running through his hair. He watched Isabelle move around the kitchen, searching for what he had demanded from her.

"A raven came from House Barton today," Ramsay suddenly spoke, "I would have told you earlier, but I did not think it important. Your parents never really did care for you, did they?"

"You would know about that," Isabelle replied in a mumble, hoping that he didn't hear her. Unfortunately Ramsay had good enough hearing to pick up on her comment.

"I am the heir to the Dreadfort and your holdfast," Ramsay reminded her and Isabelle shook her head. Ramsay deserved nothing from her parents. He deserved nothing from anyone and the fact that he was to inherit her home sickened her. "My father recognises that."

"Not enough to make you his true son," Isabelle spoke. "You are a Snow and not a Bolton, Ramsay...and to begin with I thought that was why you treated me like you did...and I thought...I don't know...I tried to love you, Ramsay. I tried so hard to make you see that there was someone who did love you...I was willing, but you never were."

Ramsay listened to her as she turned to look at him. He could see the naivety in her stare. He could see that she was speaking the truth to him. She did not lie, nor did she not deny that she had tried to love him. She had thought it possible the first night she met him before she heard the tales and saw him with the girl he had flayed.

He had never meant for her to see that, but he suspected that it was for the best. He didn't have to hide then.

"It doesn't matter," Isabelle said, feeling foolish for thinking that she could change him years ago. She thought that he had just been deprived of love, but now she knew better. "None of it matters anymore."

Gulping, Ramsay took in her words and looked down to the table. He was so shocked that he didn't bother to yell at her or slap her to the floor and tell her to watch her tongue. No, Ramsay had no energy for that. He knew who he was and he knew what he did. He did not need his wife to think that she could change him.

"I have no intention to hurt you," Ramsay suddenly informed her and she finally began to cook the sausage he had demanded. "I never did have the intention to. Perhaps you will learn to love me like you should again."

Isabelle kept mute, her back to Ramsay and she closed her eyes. She knew full well that she would not love Ramsay like she had wished she could years ago. He didn't deserve her love, nor did she want to give it away.

...

It was three days later when Robb Stark received word from Isabelle. The sight of her scrawl filled him with hope, but he then read the words on the parchment and felt it evaporate from within him. He remained seated on the log, the battle having finished and Jaime Lannister now found himself sat in a pen with guards watching his every move.

Dirt still covered Robb's cheeks and the back of his hands were covered in blood. But he didn't bother to go and wash once he had received the letter from his squire.

"What is it?" his mother asked, settling to sit down next to her son as men wandered around them, each one muttering about the battle and the capture of the Kingslayer. Roose Bolton had watched the young wolf with narrowed eyes, seeing how well he fought.

There could be no denying that he had been trained. He was better than Ramsay. His own bastard preferred to slice at anything which stood in his way. Robb had skill which only a master at arms could have taught him. Roose dreaded to think what would happen if the two men ever came in the way of each other.

"Isabelle," he whispered her name. "She says that the men I sent were killed and flayed alive...she says not to send anyone else in an attempt to rescue her. Ramsay tortured the men until they told him who they were. She has bought Ramsay's silence by swearing never to leave him...apparently she is happy with him..."

Catelyn scoffed and Robb handed her the letter to let her look at it. Catelyn cast her eyes over it before sighing and looking at Robb with annoyance in her veins. She could almost scold him for how stupid he had been to send men after her, but she didn't bother with that. He was suffering enough already without her yelling at him.

"If Lord Bolton finds out then he will remove his men and your support would be weakened," Catelyn merely warned her son. "You need to think, Robb."

"All I have done is think," Robb complained to his mother. "Is there anything else to do? Is there any more bad news to come?"

"Not so long as we keep fighting," Catelyn promised her son and Robb nodded, standing up and screwing the parchment in his hand into a small ball. She watched him go, not knowing that more bad news was on its way to her.

...

It was the following day when Isabelle heard the news. She had wandered into the kitchens to ask after Merika, only to be looked at as though she was a piece of dirt. Her mother was stood over the stove, her tears rolling down her cheeks. She had no energy to yell at Isabelle, but she could sense what had happened. Merika had died from an infection to her wounds.

Isabelle had left the women to their business before she leant against the wall in the courtyard of the Dreadfort. People passed her, curtseying quickly as they went. Isabelle ignored them, her own tears falling down her face before she pressed a hand to her mouth and stifled a sound she had never heard inside of her before.

She wanted to run. She wanted nothing more than to go down to the dungeon and sneak out of the Dreadfort. She knew that there was a way. It was the way Ramsay took his prey if they had not served him well enough. But would Lord Bolton's men flee from Robb's army if she escaped again? She would not leave any evidence that she would go to Robb Stark.

But they would think that.

And Ramsay would tell his father that Robb had sent men after him and that would surely be enough to remove the support.

For the second time in her life Isabelle felt alone and hopeless.

There was no way out and she could almost see that the rest of her life was to be spent carrying Ramsay's children. Children she didn't want. Perhaps it would have been easier for her to have drained all of the poison that day.

"M'lady!"

Isabelle looked up from her thoughts, the sight of a young woman approaching her enough to make her wipe the tears which had formed in her eyes. The girl was a pretty thing, big doe eyes and long brunette hair which hung in curls down her back. Her cheeks were prominent and her eyes were a dark blue colour like the sea.

"Yes?" Isabelle wondered, her voice unnecessarily curt.

"M'lady...I know that I should not come to you of such matters...and I know...I am risking a lot...everything..."

"What is it?" Sarah wondered and the girl looked as though she was about to burst into tears.

Isabelle moved with haste, looking around to make sure her husband was not anywhere to be seen. She took the girl by the arm, linking it with hers and keeping her eyes on the ground. The girl clutched Isabelle's arm as though she were the only thing that mattered.

"Try not to cry," Isabelle spoke lowly. "I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is wrong."

"I know," the girl spoke. "I am just so scared...so scared of everything..."

"Why?" Isabelle wondered back.

"They say that you lived in Winterfell as a maid," the girl whispered. "You fell in love with the eldest Stark boy and he would have married you one day if this war had never begun. People say that you are a honest lady and kind...that Lord Sno-"

"-Bolton," Isabelle interrupted, fearing that someone could be listening into their conversation and she knew how Ramsay resented being referred to as a Snow. "He is Lord Ramsay Bolton."

"Apologies," the girl responded, "but he does not treat you like his lady. I have heard what he does to other women...and...I saw him this morning...he went past my mother's house and he saw me...he told me that he would come back..."

Sighing, Isabelle knew what her husband intended to do. She knew then and there that she would be his next victim. Shaking her head, Isabelle stood still and looked to the girl. She could not be much younger than herself.

"I'm a virgin," the girl spoke. "I don't want him...not...in the woods..."

"I know," Isabelle promised her, moving her hand to hold her shoulder.

"I don't know why I came, m'lady. I was worried."

"I cannot save you, but I can try," Isabelle whispered softly. "Become my handmaiden and I will do my best to protect you from him. You should know by the stories that I cannot protect myself from him, never mind anyone else."

"I know," the girl replied.

"Then it is final. Come with me and I shall find you a gown to wear," Isabelle took the girl's hand and led her inside again, looking over her shoulder to make sure that Ramsay was not lurking behind her or anywhere else.

...

"There is a girl, my Lord."

Tyrion Lannister was well aware of the female gender. He had seen many girls before in his time, but more women. He was sat down on his chair as he listened to Varys. The eunuch had just entered the Hand of the King's chamber and taken a seat at the small table just across from the door. Tyrion was sat reading through a book instead of attending his nephew's name day celebrations.

He had just returned to the Capital after the news of Ned Stark's beheading. Everything was in complete disarray.

"And who is this girl?"

Varys folded his hands together on the table and leant forwards, looking at Tyrion with a narrowed stare.

"A girl who has stolen the heart of the young Wolf King."

"The young wolf is to marry a Frey girl," Tyrion reminded him. "Who he loves is irrelevant. Besides, I met this girl in Winterfell when she was with her wolf. She was a serving wench."

"The girl posed well I suspect," Varys responded, his lips in a straight line. "The Lady Eleanor of House Barton is married to the bastard of the girl faked her own death to escape him, but she has been recaptured. The North is doing well to avoid disarray. Robb Stark sent men to return this girl to Winterfell. He failed, of course. How Lord Bolton does not know of his treachery is something which troubles me, but he still supports the North and their claim."

"Of course you would know something which Lord Bolton does not know," Tyrion mumbled and looked up from his book. "But how is this relevant to anything?"

"You could broker an alliance," Varys suggested. "Returning the girl to Lord Robb would appease him from this conquest he is currently on. You could buy Lord Bolton's allegiance with a simple holdfast...he does not see eye to eye with his son. I do not doubt he would agree if the price was right."

"And Robb Stark's sisters?" Tyrion wondered back. "He will not give up this vendetta nor will my father. Too much has happened and one girl cannot solve this. Regardless, she is married and he is betrothed. Nothing can be done...although if the rumours of the Bolton bastard are true then I pity the girl."

"Robb Stark has your brother," Varys reminded him. "You have his sisters and could potentially have this girl for him. There is potential for peace, even after all of this."

Tyrion scoffed and arched a brow. "And why do you care, Varys?"

The eunuch looked away for a second, his face neutral as he did so. "I care about the realm as much as you do. I also know that this war will end badly for thousands of people. I simply wonder why people cannot sue for peace instead of have their discussions with blades."

...

Isabelle sat at her dressing table as her new handmaiden brushed her hair for her. The girl had given her name as Talia and she was proving to be a sweet creature. She had just celebrated her ten and sixth name day before Ramsay saw her. Isabelle had told her not to speak once Ramsay noticed her. She would do her best to protect the girl.

It wasn't until later when Ramsay stormed into their chamber, the door slamming on the wall behind it before he slammed it shut again. Isabelle looked at him in the mirror's reflection, Talia's hands working slowly through her hair once she heard him.

"Is something matter, husband?" Isabelle dared to ask from him and Ramsay looked to his blonde wife, his jaw firmly set as he struggled to believe what had happened. The girl had gotten away from him. She had escaped into the forest and the hounds could not find her.

That had never happened to him before, nor did he intend to discuss it with his wife. It was only when he noted the girl brushing her hair did his face scrunch up in confusion.

"Nothing, sweet wife," Ramsay responded, slowly moving to the dressing table and standing behind the maid, looking at her in the mirror. "And when did you acquire a new handmaiden?"

"Oh," Isabelle said, her tone nonchalant as Ramsay placed his large hand on the girl's shoulder, watching as she gulped and continued to brush his wife's hair. "I bumped into her this morning and she said that she was looking for work. The other handmaidens look at me as though I am nothing more than a speck of dirt. As the future Lady to the Dreadfort I wanted someone who would do as they were told without any judgment."

Ramsay's grin grew as he moved his hand down the girl's shoulder, trailing it down her back until he grabbed hold of her backside. The girl winced and Isabelle felt the motion as she pulled the brush through her hair too quickly.

"I hope you don't mind," Isabelle said. "I didn't wish to bother you with something so trivial."

"No," Ramsay spoke, "although I think that she came to you for another reason?"

"Do you?"

"I saw her this morning...pretty little thing...I would have loved to chase her through the forest...pleasured her...but now I find her here and with you. How convenient."

"I did not know," Isabelle responded and stood up, taking the brush from Talia and resting it on the dressing table. She looked to Ramsay as he continued to grope the girl and then she sighed, looking at him with a stern glare. "She is a nice girl, Ramsay. Can you not let me have one handmaiden in this place?"

"You had handmaidens."

"And you have other women who you can chase through the woods," Isabelle retorted. "I want this one thing. Would you deny it of me?"

Ramsay looked at her, noting how she refused to back off on the matter. "You are in no position to be making demands from me," he informed his wife and she nodded in agreement with that.

"I know," she spoke. "Please, Ramsay, just let me keep her with me. I ask you this one thing and one thing only. Do you know how miserable I am without any company?"

Ramsay considered her plea for a second, wondering just how much she was willing to be for this girl's life. Perhaps it would not be too bad to spare one life. Ramsay smacked the girl on the bottom and she jumped before he moved around the room, pulling his shirt from his body along with his jacket.

"Ready my wife for bed," Ramsay demanded the girl.

Isabelle nodded and the girl fumbled with the laces on Isabelle's gown, pulling the garment from her body to reveal her in her undergarments.

"You may go," Isabelle said and Ramsay shook his head.

"She goes when I say," Ramsay spoke. "And she has not readied you for bed."

"I am perfectly capable of removing my own clothes," Isabelle complained to her husband and Ramsay went to lay on the bed, knowing that his wife would obey him or suffer the consequences for not doing so.

"Do it," he said each word slowly and deliberately.

Talia looked at Isabelle with worry and Isabelle nodded, allowing the girl to remove her underclothes from her. Ramsay watched on as his wife was revealed naked in front of the other girl. He took another moment to adjust his head on the pillow before speaking.

"What do you think, girl?" Ramsay wondered. "Does my wife look ready for me to take her?"

Nodding again, Isabelle urged the girl to speak.

"Yes, m'lord."

"Come along then, Eleanor. You have your little pet...you saved her from this fate..."

Isabelle moved over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, only for Ramsay to sit up, his hands moving under her arms to cup her breasts. Talia stood awkwardly as Ramsay groped at his wife, his hands snaking in between her legs and Isabelle had no other option but to allow him to pull her thighs apart and continue his intrusion.

"What do you think?" Ramsay asked Talia as he moved his finger inside of Isabelle and she forced a moan from her throat to please him. "She's very wanton...why don't you take a seat and then you can see how grateful you should be to her?"

Talia took a seat on the bench at the dressing table as Ramsay whispered in his wife's ear.

"You wanted her?" he checked. "You can have her punishment..."

He withdrew from her and leant back on the bed.

"Get on your hands and knees," he demanded and Isabelle felt fear rise up inside of her.

She didn't look at Talia as she yelled out in pain for the entire night whilst the girl remained silent on the bench, remembering never to forget what Isabelle had done for her this night.

...

A/N: Thank you to Heartless-Princess33, jean d'arc, 23guuns and Minii for reviewing the previous chapter and I do hope you will all let me know what you think! Thanks to anyone following too! Please review!


	12. Chapter 12

"Talia," Isabelle whispered the following morning once she had bathed and scrubbed her skin clean. She still felt weak after the night before. She wondered just how much pain she could go through in the future. Ramsay had taken her in every way imaginable; Talia sat on the seat and forced to watch until Ramsay dismissed her when he wished to sleep. Isabelle suspected that was only a few hours before the sun rose from behind the clouds which hid it.

"You do not need to do that...I can change the sheets..."

"No, m'lady," Talia shook her head, pulling the white sheets from the mattress, guilt slowly eating up inside of her for what had happened to the woman the previous night. "You took my punishment..."

Isabelle pulled her robe around her, hiding the bruises on her body before she moved from behind the screen the metal tub was hidden behind. She walked gingerly as Talia balled the blooded and sticky sheets into her hands, doing her best not to show Isabelle the tears which were falling down her cheeks.

"Ramsay would have done those things to me one day," Isabelle said, trying to spare the girl from the pain she felt. Only one of them should let Ramsay win, and Isabelle did not want Talia to suffer because of him. "Trust me, Talia, Ramsay does not care for me or anyone else. Do not let him win."

"But he...the things he did..." Talia openly sobbed, glad that Ramsay had decided to go riding for the day so that he did not see her. Isabelle took the girl into her arms as Talia dropped the sheets onto the bed again and wrapped her arms around Isabelle, holding her tightly. Isabelle could not help but think how odd the situation was. She was the one who he had hurt, but she was not the one sobbing.

"I know what he did," Isabelle spoke, one of her free hands moving to stroke Talia's hair like Robb used to stroke hers in an attempt to soothe her. It usually used to work with her. "I am well aware of Ramsay and his ways, Talia, but you cannot show him any weakness. Ramsay uses weakness to his advantage."

Talia pulled back after a moment and nodded at her, doing her best to be strong. She had to be strong if she was going to stay alive after catching Ramsay's eye.

"You have to listen to me and do as I say," Isabelle said to her. "Can you do that? If not then I worry what he will do. I will try my best to protect you, but...it is never that simple..."

"I can do it," Talia promised her and Isabelle nodded back to her. "I can do anything that you ask me."

"Good," Isabelle replied in a whisper, knowing what she needed her to do. "Because I need you to do something for me."

"What is it?"

Isabelle sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up to Talia. "I need moon tea," she whispered and Talia's eyes widened before she nodded and gulped. "There is a book in the library which instructs you how to brew it. I do not think it is that difficult, but the maester would tell Ramsay if I asked for it...so...I think we need to do this in secret. The ingredients should not be too difficult to take...or perhaps there is a wise woman in the village?"

Nodding, Talia picked the sheets up once more, doing her best to prove useful to Isabelle and make sure that she didn't need to see the reminder of what Ramsay had done the previous night to her. The girl rocked back and forth on her heels before biting down on her bottom lip, trying to recall if she had ever heard of a wise woman inside of the walls of the Dreadfort.

"I think that there is one woman," Talia said. "She came to my mother when she was ill and brewed her some medicine. She could do moon tea and no one would know that it was for you."

"Good," Isabelle nodded and stood to her feet, moving over to her wardrobe to look for something to wear for the coming day. She opened the wooden doors, trying to figure out which gown would not be too tight on her body. She finally settled on the green one whilst Talia tidied around the room.

"Do you want me to go and search for the woman now, m'lady?" Talia asked and Isabelle agreed.

"You should go before Ramsay comes back. He cannot know of this. The Gods only know what he would do if he found out. He is determined to give me an heir. I could only imagine that would be the worst thing possible," Isabelle spoke.

"Yes, m'lady."

Isabelle waited until she heard the shutting of the door to the bedchamber before she inhaled sharply and felt tears prick at her own eyes. She didn't want to cry. She had spent her entire marriage crying over what Ramsay had done to her and she was tired of it. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction anymore. She wanted nothing to do with him.

And one day she knew that she would either break and it would cost her a life. Whether it was her or his life, she did not know, but she knew that it would happen.

...

"He wants me to marry the Frey girl now?"

Catelyn did not know how much time she had spent in her tent ever since she had done something which her son considered an abomination. She was well aware that Robb was angry with her. He was angry at everyone and everything. He had been for some time, but his anger was slowly growing. He had just received word that Walder Frey wanted his marriage now.

Robb had felt himself deflate, the news only worsening when he heard what his mother had done. She had freed the Kingslayer from his pen and sent him to King's Landing to make an alliance. She had gone behind his back and now she was paying the price for it.

And then the news had come about Theon Greyjoy. It had arrived the same time as Walder Frey's letter, both of them causing Robb to wonder why he had even gone to war in the first place. His father had died at the hands of King Joffrey and his entire family had been separated, but they seemed no closer to reuniting. Robb didn't know how much more he could handle.

"He wants me to abandon everything to go to the Twins?" Robb checked, throwing the letter onto the ground. "The man I consider my closest friend has just gone and taken my home and I know nothing of what has happened to my brothers there. I should go back North and have Theon Greyjoy's head decorate its walls."

Catelyn said nothing, knowing that nothing she said would make Robb feel any better. He had turned into a man before he very eyes and it had happened too quickly. All of this had happened too quickly. She closed her eyes, resting her hand on the wooden desk whilst thinking of her children. They were all that she had left now.

"My King."

Robb wondered when he would grow used to that. They had crowned him the King in the North, each one of his bannermen swore allegiance to him and promised not to rest until Joffrey was killed for what he had done to his father.

"Lord Bolton," Robb returned the greeting stiffly.

Roose almost wanted to smirk at hearing him. The boy had not stepped a toe out of line. He had done nothing to endanger their relationship, well, not that Roose knew of. But the distaste he held for the Bolton family was obvious enough and Robb could not hide it, regardless of how much he tried.

"I heard the news of Winterfell. The ironborn took it with Theon Greyjoy at their helm."

"I know," Robb said and then looked to his mother as she avoided everybody's stare. "I should never have trusted him. I know that he is a Greyjoy...I see that now..."

"I could have him rooted out," Roose spoke in a low drawl, ignoring Robb punishing himself for trusting Theon. "Going back North is not an option now. We would separate our forces and Tywin Lannister would know of it. Let me send word to Ramsay. I do not doubt that he could take Winterfell from the ironborn."

Robb remained hesitant at that request. Even Catelyn looked up from her staring at the table. Her eyes met her sons and she wondered what he was thinking. Robb took a few moments, worry coursing through his veins as he did so. If he sent Ramsay then he could save Bran and Rickon. He would have no other option but to leave Isabelle at the Dreadfort.

Perhaps she could escape then?

But what would he do to Theon? Did Robb truly care?

"And he would see to it that Bran and Rickon were sent to Riverrun safely?" Robb checked with Roose and the man nodded.

"I would ask it of him," Roose responded. "He would not dare do anything but what I tell him. I recall one time I caught him flaying his wife...he stopped as soon as I caught him. Ramsay craves attention."

Robb tried not to let Roose's words affect him. He knew that he was trying to get a rise out of him. Robb was no fool on that front, but he would not let Bolton win. He would not let him get away with torturing Isabelle. One day or another, Robb promised that he would see to that.

"I want Theon Greyjoy returned to me. I want to look him in the eye and I want him to tell me why he did it."

"As you say," Roose replied with a low bow.

The man turned to leave the tent and Robb sunk down to sit on his bed, his hands holding his face.

"You did the right thing," Catelyn whispered to him.

"Did I?" Robb checked. "I should have sent some of my own men North to find Bran and Rickon. How can I trust Ramsay Snow? I know what he did to Isabelle...Gods..."

"You have no men to give away," Catelyn replied, trying her best to convince him that he was doing the right thing. "You know that your men are sacred and Lord Bolton will bring Theon Greyjoy to justice, regardless of how little you trust him."

"Did you hear him?" Robb checked with his mother. "Did you hear the way he spoke about Isabelle?"

Catelyn sighed, wondering when her son would forget this girl. Her fate was not his to meddle with anymore. He had a war to win and a family to reunite. The girl was married to the Bolton bastard and Catelyn felt sympathy for her, she truly did, but she was Ramsay's wife. She was not Robb's to take.

"I'm winning battles, but I am no closer to winning this war," Robb complained, pushing his hand through his curly hair. "I am to marry a girl I have never met before, all the while leaving the only girl I have ever loved in the hands of a cruel sadist. Tell me; how are any of my decisions rational?"

Shaking her head, Catelyn took a few seconds before she dared to go and sit besides Robb. She placed an arm around his shoulders whilst he looked straight ahead, thinking about something else which he could do. There had to be a way to get what he wanted. He had to think quickly though, and he had to be clever.

...

Isabelle sat in the Great Hall besides Ramsay later on that evening, chewing delicately at the meat which was on the plate in front of her. There was an entire long table, but Ramsay had chosen to sit as close to her as possible, ready to allow his taunts to begin with his wife. He held his fork with one hand, his other arm around her waist, running up and down her side as if he was trying to soothe her.

Isabelle tried to forget his touch as she picked up her goblet and glanced over to Talia who stood in the corner of the room, waiting for an instruction. The water was not water inside of her cup, Isabelle knew that. Moon tea occupied her drink, but Ramsay would never know the truth.

"I feel as though I have scared you, my love," Ramsay suddenly commented, dropping both his knife and fork to his plate before his hand rested harshly on Isabelle's upper thigh, his fingers squeezing the flesh there. She did her best not to show pain as she finished chewing on her piece of carrot.

"And why would you think that, husband?" Isabelle asked him back, turning her upper half to face him as both of his hands commenced to stroke along her skin.

"Last night," Ramsay recalled, his eyes flashing over to look at Talia, a glint held inside of them as he did so. "Was I too rough for you? You have barely said a word to me since last night?"

Isabelle turned back to her plate, picking her knife and fork up. She bent her head slightly so that her hair covered her face from him. "I do not wish to speak of last night."

"Do you not?" Ramsay mocked her, a sinister smile held on his face and Isabelle ground her teeth together. "I must truly have hurt you then...but you handled it very well...your dear handmaiden must be in your debt."

"Just leave her alone," Isabelle hissed, tossing her head back to look at Ramsay. "You have me to torture and mock-"

"-Yes," Ramsay interrupted her. "You are mine, aren't you, Isabelle? And your beloved Robb Stark seems to understand that now."

Furrowing her brows, Isabelle kept still, her knife and fork clattering onto the plate. Ramsay moved his hand up her thigh to her stomach, cupping her breast before resting it on her cheek. He leaned in closer, a motion which was not often seen at the dinner table.

"My father sent a raven demanding for me to take my men to Winterfell," he whispered to her so that Talia could not overhear. "The Greyjoy's have sent men to take the North and one of them has taken Winterfell. Robb Stark asked for my help...he wants me to send his brothers to Riverrun...there was no mention of you."

"He would not have asked if he was not desperate," Isabelle counteracted.

"Do you think so?" Ramsay wondered, his forehead resting against hers. "Do you think that he still wants you? Oh, my darling wife...Robb Stark is to marry a Frey girl...in the next coming days...he is to have his own wife and not mine. Perhaps I might have her one day and show him how it feels to have his possession taken from him."

Isabelle remained still as Ramsay watched her pale, the look in her eyes fading and he grinned at the mere sight of it. Oh, how he loved this. How he loved to see her suffer. He did not know why, but he could not deny the smile which always grew on his face.

"Yes," Ramsay spoke. "He agreed to marry a Frey. How does that make you feel, Eleanor? He cast you aside so easily. Did you think he would come for you? Did you think he would whisk you away?"

Ramsay mentioned nothing of how Stark had no option but to marry the girl so that he could cross the Twins. Why would he say anything of that? This way was much better. Torturing Isabelle's emotions would make sure she knew that Robb Stark was never coming for her, that he never cared enough to save her.

Ramsay took hold of her chin, forcing her wet orbs to meet his scrutinising ones.

"This is not like those books you used to read," he warned her. "You are no Princess, Eleanor. Robb Stark is no gallant knight. You are the wife to the future Lord of the Dreadfort. You are nothing more but his wife who is his to use whenever he pleases. You...are...mine..."

Isabelle could feel her body shake as Ramsay moved his hands to the laces of Isabelle's dress and she shook her head, refusing to let him have her again. Ramsay tried to soothe her, his hands curling around her upper arms to stop her from even thinking of leaving.

"My wife," he repeated to her. "You are here to obey, are you not?"

"Just let me go," Isabelle said in a whisper. "Please, Ramsay...just for tonight...let me be alone..."

Ramsay made a shushing noises, his hands moving to push her hair from sticking to her wet cheeks. "My sweetling," he whispered, "I do not wish for you to be alone...not now...not ever..."

Standing from the bench, Ramsay reached down and offered her his hand. Isabelle looked at it for a few moments, wanting nothing more than to swat it away and run away from him. She wouldn't get far, but she could try.

"Take my hand," Ramsay demanded, "or I will take you on this table in front of everyone."

Inhaling sharply, Isabelle grabbed hold of Ramsay's hand and allowed him to haul her to her feet. He quickly bent down to kiss her swiftly on the lips before he laced her arm through his and wandered from the Hall with her dangling on his arm. He glanced over to Talia as she remained mute in the corner, her eyes on his wife and Ramsay moved his arm then, draping it around Isabelle's waist to squeeze her backside.

Isabelle looked to Talia, silently urging her to stay away from them tonight. It was only when they had left did Talia know that she had to try and do something. She couldn't let Lady Eleanor suffer at the bastard's hands. She thanked the Seven that her mother had taught her how to read and write. Picking her skirts up, she stormed from the Hall and wondered what words she should write to the one they proclaimed the King in the North.

...

A/N: So no reviews for the previous chapter, but thanks to anyone who is taking the time to read and I do hope that you will let me know what you think as it would mean a lot to me!


	13. Chapter 13

Robb read the letter the raven had brought him, the grotesque words hitting him hard. He continued to read through them, doing his best not to sound utterly and completely repulsed by them. There was no escaping the fact that matters were worse than he had initially thought. He sat in his chamber in the Twins, giggling women moving down the corridor, their noises audible from behind his wooden door.

He was set to marry a Frey in the next coming days. The guilt inside of him was clear. Robb wanted nothing more than to place the letter in his pocket and go after Isabelle. That would make him feel so much better. But his mother continuously reminded him that he had a duty to perform. He had a war to win and the war did not revolve around Isabelle.

"Robb," his mother's voice came from the door. "The ceremony is being discussed. Have you changed yet?"

Sighing, Robb remained sat at the desk and picked out a piece of parchment he had demanded a maid bring to him. He ignored his mother and refused to unlock the door as she continued to knock gently, obviously not wanting to make a scene.

"Robb, you are my son and I know what is going through your mind," she promised him. "I know that you are more than likely sat in there reading through that damn letter. I know that you are hurting and this marriage will do nothing to ease your pain."

Robb picked up the quill and looked down to the parchment. What words could he write? Could he write them without having them intercepted by Ramsay? The chances were that he would read everything Isabelle received. There truly was no way to get to her.

...

"Are you trying to hurt me more than you already have?" Isabelle wondered from Ramsay the following morning as he dressed in front of her. She remained seated in the bed, clutching the sheets which covered her body to her chest. Ramsay looked to his wife, her blonde curls matted around her hair and her eyes were drooping downwards.

"And why would I wish to do that, my love?" Ramsay wondered. "I was gentle with you last night, was I not? Has that not proven my loyalty towards being kind to you?"

He was right about one part. Ramsay had taken her the previous night, but he had not been rough. This time he had decided on slow and cruel torture, taking his time to have her. Isabelle didn't know which part was worse. She didn't know whether she preferred his pretence at kindness, or his true and harsh self.

"Our attendance at this wedding is not needed and you know that," Isabelle spat out, truly disgusted with Ramsay and his plan.

"That is where you are wrong," Ramsay replied and sat back down on her side of the bed once he had laced his breeches. He moved his hand to her cheek, his fingers tickling down the side of her skin before they came to the top of the sheet which sat against her chest. "The marriage of a King is important and my father thought it polite if we attended. Now, we ride to Winterfell this morning to root out Theon Greyjoy and then once he has been captured...well...we ride for the Twins."

"I don't want to go," Isabelle complained to him and Ramsay arched a mocking brow at her.

"You don't want to go?" he taunted. "Why? Is it because you're scared you'll have Robb Stark between your legs again; that you will become his whore?"

Keeping quiet, Isabelle looked over Ramsay's shoulder as he bent down to kiss her on her plump lips, ravishing the taste of her as she felt his hand move to grope at her breast. He did his best to get a response from her, but she knew he was wasting his time. He seemed to know it too as he pulled back and looked her in the eye.

"Get ready and pack a trunk," he demanded from her. "We leave as soon as possible."

...

Ramsay had not been foolish enough to give Isabelle her own horse. He knew better than to do that. He kept her with him and he had refused her request to bring her handmaiden along on the journey. No, Ramsay kept his wife sat in front of him on his horse, Blood, and he kept his arms securely around her. It was only when night fell did he slip from the creature and turn his head over his shoulder to look at the men who had been following him.

The Boltons were a strong House. Ramsay knew that and he knew that the majority of men behind him would take Winterfell against the lack of ironborn men. It would be an easy feat. The only question then was what he did with the one they called Theon Greyjoy. Robb Stark had demanded his return, but Ramsay had his own thoughs.

He always had done.

"I have four men who will stand guard to watch over you whilst I attend to business," Ramsay informed his wife, slipping down from the horse and offering her his hand. She took hold of it and he grabbed her waist, depositing her on the floor. "You can try to get some sleep whilst I am gone. We ride for the Twins as soon as possible."

"What are you going to do to Theon?" Isabelle suddenly asked him and he arched a brow, wondering why she was so concerned. Truth be known, Isabelle didn't know why she had bothered to ask. She had never particularly liked Theon, but she almost failed to believe he would do something so cruel as to take Robb's home from him.

"Why do you care?" Ramsay wondered back. "Don't tell me you have fucked him too."

Isabelle slipped her leather gloves from her fingers and wandered away from Ramsay; "Believe it or not, you are the only who has fucked me and that is enough to repulse me for the rest of my life."

Ramsay looked at her with a stern gaze, preparing to walk after her and teach her another lesson. He gained no chance as his men wandered over to him, one of them calling for his attention.

"My Lord!"

Ramsay watched Isabelle lean against a tree and fold her arms over her waist. He smirked at the sight of and then began to converse with his men, choosing the four best ones to sit with her and make sure she did nothing to wrong him.

"We round up the ironborn scum!" Ramsay yelled out to the mass behind him. "And then we kill them as only we know how."

Wincing at his words, Isabelle looked away from him as he moved past her, his eyes gleaming with joy. He would enjoy this all too much and she knew it.

...

The shock on Robb's face was evident when he saw her again. Even he could not hide it from his features. He knew that his mother had noticed and his bride to be must have spotted it. Roslin Frey was a pretty girl, Robb could not deny that. She had wide eyes and a pale complexion, everything about her looked innocent. She spoke with pleasantries to him and smiled when it was required of her. She would be sweet and kind, but Robb knew that he would never want her.

His mother had assured her that time would pass and he would grow fond of her, but Robb doubted that. He doubted it even more as he stood in the Grand Hall of the Twins and greeted the Lord and Ladies who had travelled for his wedding.

Walder Frey sat behind the betrothed couple, Catelyn to his side as pleasantries were exchanged.

Robb had grown bored of greeting everyone, his eyes constantly scanning around the room. That was before he saw her. She was stood with her arm dangling off a tall and broad man. Robb's eyes narrowed and he did his best not to appear too shocked.

Isabelle was stood at the back of the Grand Hall, waiting for people to move and greet the lucky couple. Roose Bolton had sauntered over to his son and had inclined his head whilst Ramsay stood tall, his head held high and his arm squeezing tightly around Isabelle's arm.

"Father," he greeted Roose.

"Ramsay," Roose responded. "I trust you did as I had asked you at Winterfell."

Isabelle closed her eyes, knowing that Robb would be infuriated when he found out that Ramsay had burnt down Winterfell. He had refused to tell her what he had done with the Greyjoy boy, but he had failed to find the Stark brothers and the rest of the ironborn men had been slaughtered.

"I did as you asked and had no other option but to kill the ironborn. They refused to surrender," Ramsay lied and Roose regarded him coldly. Isabelle could almost cut the tension between the two men as Roose turned his gaze to her and studied her with the same look of discontent he did his son.

"Lady Eleanor," he drawled out. "How nice it is to see you again."

"Yes, my Lord," Isabelle replied as Roose took hold of her hand and dryly kissed the back of it.

"Doesn't she look ravishing?" Ramsay checked, his arm swooping from her arm to loop around her waist, his lips kissing her forehead forcefully.

Isabelle had changed from her riding gown into a red gown decorated with fine golden thread in the shape of flowers. She had managed to comb through her hair and it hung limply down her back in curls. She was pale, but that was due to nerves. She had not dared look to the front of the room, knowing full well that Robb would be stood there and it would ruin her. She could already feel her heart beating in her chest, the noise occupying her ears and drowning out every other background noise.

"Aye, she does," Roose said. "Every Lord and Lady is here and there have been rumours about the Lady Eleanor's return to you. I thought it important that you make a public appearance and show people that it is true."

"And I cannot think of a better place to do this," Ramsay said, his eyes glancing over to Robb Stark.

The King in the North was an attractive man; there could be no denying that. He was tall and lean, dressed in finery with a mess of curls on top of his head. A beard grew on his chin and he had clear orbs which Ramsay suspected could pierce straight through him if he let it.

"You should go and greet the King in the North and his sweet bride," Roose declared. "We shall speak further at the feast tonight."

"Yes," Ramsay agreed and he took hold of Isabelle's hand and rested it on top of his arm. "Come along, my wife."

Isabelle's fingers gripped Ramsay's arm tightly as they wandered down the middle of the benches in the Hall, until they came to the steps up to the upper platform. It was only then when Isabelle looked up and her eyes met Robb's eyes. She felt her breath hitch in her throat and her eyes instantly begin to water. Robb looked at her with pity and longing and that was enough for Ramsay to begin to speak, a sinister smile on his face as he stepped forwards and held Isabelle's hand forwards.

"My king," Ramsay said and Robb could not even begin to explain how much he detested the sight and sound of Ramsay already. He looked over to Ramsay, both men locking eyes. Robb remained stoic and Ramsay remained entertained.

"May I present to you my wife, Lady Eleanor," Ramsay drawled and then looked to Robb's bride. She was also a very fine looking woman; no doubt an innocent girl like Isabelle had been.

Isabelle remained still, not too sure what she should do. Ramsay glanced back to Isabelle and urged her softly;

"Curtsey to your king, my love," Ramsay urged her and Catelyn stepped forwards, knowing that something was going to happen.

Isabelle picked her skirt up with shaking hands and then dipped into a curtsey and Robb closed his eyes, looking away as he did his best not to draw his sword.

"My lord," Catelyn called out, looking to Ramsay. "I trust that you are Lord Bolton's son?"

"Yes, my lady," Ramsay spoke. "My father thought that it would be honourable to attend this wedding."

Robb didn't take his eyes from Isabelle and she did not take her eyes from him. Both of them pretended that no one else existed in the Hall. It was just them and that was enough. Catelyn placed her hand on her son's shoulder, trying to gain his attention and Roslin remained mute, trying to understand why her betrothed had changed in his demeanour.

"And it is lovely that you attended," Catelyn tried to keep the peace. "Perhaps you can have a servant show you to your chamber? You and your wife must be tired from the long journey. Your father told of us what happened in Winterfell before you arrived."

"Yes," Ramsay said. "Hopefully...well...nothing I can say can take your pain away."

"No," Catelyn agreed with a brief nod.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my king," Ramsay spoke with a smile on his face. "Come along, my wife, we have time to rest before the feast tonight."

Ramsay tried to take Isabelle, but she remained stood where she was. It was difficult for her to remain stood when all she wanted was to wrap her arms around Robb. All she wanted was to hold him to her and he wanted the same thing. Ramsay looked down to Isabelle, his hand turning her chin back to him.

"Eleanor," he whispered her name. "Come along."

She did as he had asked this time, taking his arm and pulling her eyes from Robb as he wrapped his arm around her waist and wandered back from the Hall. He moved his hand to her backside, groping at it for Robb to see.

"Robb," Catelyn whispered to her son and Robb continued to glower at the retreating couple, wishing for nothing more than to take her son into her arms and hold him.

"Is everything alright, your grace?" Roslin asked and Robb looked down to her and shook his head.

"If you'll excuse me, my lady," Robb said and shook his mother's hand from him before rushing from the Hall, leaving everyone gaping after him.

...

A/N: Thanks to anyone reading and please do review to let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

"Well, that was pleasantly awkward," Ramsay summed up the encounter which they had just had with Robb and Roslin. Isabelle took to sit on the four poster bed in her chamber, folding her arms over her waist as her stomach churned. Her trunk was by the foot of the bed and Ramsay opened it up, pulling her gowns from it and unfolding them, laying the material on the bed once he was finished.

"Now, which gown should we dress you in tonight?" Ramsay wondered from her in a low voice. "We don't want you to upstage his blushing bride, but we do want him to be jealous. Perhaps he will do something then?"

"Why do you care?" Isabelle asked. "You promised not to tell your father what he did if I agreed to obey you. Robb has nothing to do with this. I am married to you and not him. Why are you trying to make him jealous?"

Ramsay remained silent for a moment before he moved to kneel before his wife on the floor, parting her legs to rest in between them. His hands clasped around her waist and his eyes looked up into hers as he ran his hands up her sides to her neck, slowly stroking the pale skin which sat there. She remained mute, finding herself unable to speak to him.

"I intend to have my fun with the Young Wolf," Ramsay promised her. "I also intend to make sure that you know who you belong to, but you have been ever so good today. I had thought that you would say something to your beloved King in the North."

"Do you think me so foolish?" Isabelle wondered, pushing Ramsay's shoulders so that she could stand up and moved through the room, her fingers trailing through her hair as her mind whirled with worry about Robb.

"No," Ramsay replied, pushing himself to his feet once more and catching Isabelle by her wrist. "I know that you are a clever girl, Eleanor. You may not act it, but I can see it. I can also tell you that I have no intention of letting you out of my sight."

"So you intend to make my time here a living hell before you take me back to the Dreadfort?" Isabelle checked and Ramsay looked down at her in a condescending manner, his hand moving to cup the back of her head tenderly.

"You are sweet," Ramsay commented. "I intend to have my pleasure anyway I can...and being here...with you when Robb Stark can do nothing about it...that is very pleasurable."

Isabelle tried to squirm away from him before she felt his hand move from her wrist to her inner thigh, the material of her gown rubbing against her skin as his hand travelled further and cupped her intimately. Ramsay looked her in the eye, waiting for some form of response from her. She knew what he was doing. She had played this game long enough.

"And now," Ramsay whispered, his free hand taking Isabelle's hand to press it against the hardness which strained his crotch, "I want my wife and her pleasure."

"The feast starts in a couple of hours and I need to change and prepare myself," Isabelle made up her excuse, removing herself from Ramsay's grip. The Bolton bastard only had a few moments to look aggrieved with his wife before there was a knock on the door.

"What?" Ramsay snapped.

The door opened to reveal a serving boy. He looked slightly uneasy under Ramsay's glare; not that Isabelle could blame him. Ramsay was always in a foul mood whenever he was interrupted from having what he wanted. The boy bowed and Isabelle sat down at her dressing table.

"M'lord," he spoke hastily. "Your father has requested a private audience with you in the courtyard. He said that it was urgent and that you should come as soon as possible."

Ramsay smirked and nodded at the boy. "Tell him that I shall be there momentarily."

The servant hurried away and Ramsay squeezed Isabelle's shoulder as she combed her hair slowly and methodically. His hands tickled her bare skin as he spoke;

"I should be back soon," he whispered. "Do try to be good whilst I'm gone."

"I will stay here," Isabelle promised him and Ramsay bent down to kiss her on the top of her head.

She remained silent as he left the room and closed the door behind him. Isabelle kept still for a few seconds, the brush in her hand hovering in mid air before she was certain he had gone and she could continue to comb through the knots in her curls. If she had her way then she would leave to go and seek Robb out, but she could not. She only gained a few minutes of peace before the door opened and Isabelle prepared herself for Ramsay's return.

Only it was not her husband's reflection she saw in her dressing table's mirror. Shaking with delight, Isabelle slowly stood up and turned to face the King in the North, forgetting all of her pleasantries as he locked the door to the chamber and then faced her.

"Robb," she whispered his name, the sound sweet and tender on her lips.

It was enough for Robb to rush over to her and haul her into his arm. A sob of relief, joy and fear took hold of her as she moved her arms around his neck, the feel of his body pressing against hers not a foreign or unwelcome one. She rested her forehead on his shoulder whilst his hands continued to roam down her back.

"I passed Ramsay in the corridor on his way to his father," Robb spoke softly. "I waited for a few moments before I came to you. We do not have long."

She pulled back then and Robb looked down to her, his hands tenderly moving to clasp hold of her cheeks, holding them delicately. She moved her hands to rest over his, looking to his handsome face before he bent down to swiftly kiss her. Isabelle tensed for a moment before relaxing, knowing that they had to keep their encounter brief before Ramsay had both of them declared traitors.

"Has he hurt you?" Robb demanded to know, his forehead resting against hers.

Closing her eyes, she sighed, her hot breath hitting Robb's face. "Ramsay enjoys pain," Isabelle whispered.

"He will enjoy it even less when I see to it that he is removed from the Dreadfort."

"You cannot do that right now," Isabelle replied. "Everything is a mess, Robb. You are to marry a Frey and you have to go and bring your father home...your-"

"-My father is dead," Robb interrupted her, shaking his head back and forth. "Joffrey beheaded him once he discovered that the Queen's children were all born from a product of incest. Since then I have been fighting this war to get Sansa and Arya back...my brothers...my home...they have gone too...and now I am to wed a Frey because I had no other option. I had to cross the Twins and marrying one of them was the only way."

Her eyes widened with each passing declaration and Isabelle tried to process everything that he had told her. Ramsay had certainly kept her in the dark about everything. He was good at doing that.

"Robb," she whispered his name again. "I am so sorry...I did not know...he did not tell me..."

"And what does he tell you?" Robb asked gruffly and Isabelle leant back in his arms, her hands moving down his upper arms and his moved down her soft hair.

"Only what he wants to tell me," Isabelle whispered back. "He does his best not to talk when he is with me...he only taunts..."

The notion caused Robb to inhale sharply and look away whilst Isabelle looked to the door, making sure that it had not suddenly sprung open to reveal the pair of them. Robb slowly moved his hand to run down her cheek and she leaned into his touch, finding it so familiar.

"I am doing my best to think of a way for you to escape here," Robb whispered and Isabelle took hold of his hand.

"Ramsay will have his eye on me for the entire trip. It is impossible...and you are to wed the Frey girl...there is no way for us to be together, Robb. That is the part that pains me. It has done ever since I met you and fell for you."

Robb knew she spoke sense. He just didn't want to believe it.

"I promise you that I shall do all that I can to change this," Robb spoke. "I will do all that I can to take you from him."

"Just stay alive," Isabelle urged him. "That is all that I want for you."

It was only as Robb bent down to kiss her again did they hear the door slowly move in its frame. Knocks echoed through the room and Robb instantly pushed Isabelle behind his body, grateful that the door was still shut.

"Did you honestly think that I would be naive enough to think that you would not go and see her as soon as you knew she was alone?"

Ramsay's voice was cold and calculating, but not loud and aggressive. No. Ramsay would play this situation to his advantage. He remained outside of the room, leaning against the stone wall next to the door with his arms folded over his chest as he spoke to the closed door;

"I would open the door before I spread some form of word and half of your forces abandon you," Ramsay warned them, waiting for the sound of the door unlocking. He was patient, but the noise soon entered his ears and he grinned, wondering just how much fun he could have watching the pair of them squirm.

...

A/N: thank you to jean'darc, Isnotamusedsir, xxxRena and Steffh6 for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	15. Chapter 15

"No," Isabelle hissed as Robb took a step towards the door, his jaw set firmly and his eyes glowering. She knew that if he faced Ramsay then nothing good would come of it. They both remained shocked that Ramsay had caught them in the chamber, but he was silent. He waited with patience and Isabelle knew that was when he was at his most dangerous; when he was plotting quietly.

"There is no way out," Robb informed her. "I am the King in the North, Isabelle. He can-"

"-He could spread lies and have your forces halved," Isabelle interrupted, taking Robb's cheeks into her hands. "You cannot irritate him, Robb. You don't know what he is like."

"I know what he has done, Isabelle," Robb responded in a low voice, his fingers cupping her chin and holding it tightly in her hands. He bent down to her height, looking her in the eye before he kissed her firmly on the lips. Isabelle closed her eyes as she felt his plump lips move over hers, briefly losing her thoughts as his hands pushed through her hair.

Was he trying to say goodbye to her? Was that what this kiss was about?

Pulling back, Robb tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his eyes looking over her face as he tried to memorise every single detail about her. He didn't know how he would work his way out of this situation, but he had no intention of allowing Ramsay Snow to best him.

Robb gave her hand one final squeeze before he moved over to the door and pulled the bolt down, his hand moving to the handle and he pulled the door open. He moved back from the door before Ramsay could make his presence known and Isabelle looked as Robb came to stand by her side again. She knew that reaching out and taking hold of his hand was not an option.

Ramsay slowly entered the room, a look of glee on his face as he closed the door behind him and leant against it, his foot kicking the back of the wood whilst Robb remained tall.

"Well, I would say that this is a surprise, but I think we both know better than that," Ramsay commented. "I admit that I am impressed she didn't spread her legs for you as soon as she saw you. I suppose I am the only one who knows that pleasure."

"You know how I know her," Robb grumbled back and Isabelle looked between the two men. "She worked as a maid in Winterfell. I merely wanted to know that she was safe."

"And you could not see that?" Ramsay checked with Robb, moving from the door towards her. He stood by her side and wrapped his fingers around her neck, allowing them softly to stroke the skin there. "My dear Eleanor is simply sublime being by my side. Isn't she radiant in her fine gowns?"

Robb wanted to snatch Ramsay's wrist from her and tell him that Isabelle did not need fine looking gowns to be radiant. But he kept silent as Ramsay bent down and kissed Isabelle in front of him, knowing full well that he was trying to get a rise from him. He was trying to be clever and Isabelle only wished that Robb would not bite the bait.

"So, you came here with what intent?" Ramsay asked once he had finished biting on Isabelle's bottom lip and he took a seat in the chair by the fire, pulling Isabelle down to sit on his lap. "Did you intend to have her taken away from here? Or did you think that you could have her for yourself?"

"As I said," Robb responded, looking on as Isabelle closed her eyes and Ramsay's hands moved down her waist, "I came to make sure she was well. She means a lot to me."

"How touching," Ramsay responded. "And do you expect me to believe you? I know that she loves you. I know that she is a beauty but no one to start wars for. Do you wish for another war, your Grace?"

"No," Isabelle answered for Robb, quickly pushing herself from Robb's lap to stand up. She looked down to her husband, her eyes set in a stern manner as she wondered what was running through his mind. Did he want another war? Did he want to see the North fall?

"So she does have a voice," Ramsay clapped once, folding one leg over the other and pushing his hands through his hair. "And why should I keep quiet, my love? I can tell all of how the King in the North came here and took my wife...how he dishonoured his vows...do you think that Walder Frey would take kindly to that?"

"It would be a lie!" Isabelle snapped at Ramsay and Robb remained mute as he saw her body shake with rage. She hated Ramsay and all that he intended to do to her. She hated him for torturing Robb in such a cruel manner. "You know that, Ramsay. I promised you that I would stand by your side and I have done nothing to dishonour you. You know that as well as I."

Ramsay kept silent, seeing the pain in his wife's eyes. She loved Robb Stark. She loved a boy who could never be hers. But there Ramsay sat; her own husband and he knew that she would never love him. He didn't know how he felt about it. He just knew that there was a part of him which wondered if she would change in the future.

"Please," Isabelle begged again, sinking to her knees in front of him, her hands resting on his knees and Robb looked away, unable to see her beg for his life. He should be the one doing that, but there she was, defending him.

"This is a very touching sight," Ramsay whispered, bending to stroke Isabelle's hair from her face, "my wife begging me once again. How often have I seen this sight recently?"

"You know that you have me," Isabelle whispered. "Let Robb leave here and say nothing for we did nothing to dishonour you."

"And what do you say, King Robb?" Ramsay wondered, standing up and brushing past Isabelle. "Do you think that my wife is sincere enough?"

Robb's teeth remained firmly gritted together, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. Ramsay's smug looking face was enough to make him contemplate the consequences of what would happen if he drew his sword and sliced him down in that bedchamber.

"I know what you have done to her," Robb said lowly. "I know that you have hurt her before...everything you did..."

"And she knows it too," Ramsay responded just as lowly. "She is my wife. She is my property. I can do as I please with her and you are no one to tell me otherwise."

"Is that right?" Robb checked; his brow arching. "She deserves much more than you."

"What she deserves and what she has is a completely different story," Ramsay shook his head and then looked to Isabelle as she remained stood behind them, his eyes flashing with knowledge. "Now, you leave this bedchamber, King Robb, and I will make sure that I do my best not to spread word of what has just happened. I am certain Eleanor will be more than accommodating to make sure I hold my word."

Robb looked over to Isabelle and she nodded at him, just wishing that he would leave her alone. She nodded back to him, making sure that he understood what she intended to do. She intended to do her best to keep him safe and in return Robb would do his best to bring her back to him safely, regardless of his bride to be.

"This is not over," Robb promised Ramsay, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Isabelle brushed past Ramsay then, taking Robb by his arm and squeezing it lightly. Robb took a moment or two to peer down at her, seemingly unable to remove his eyes from Ramsay's figure. How he hated the boy.

"You have a family," Isabelle whispered. "You need to rescue them, not me."

_I need to do both, _Robb thought to himself and Isabelle pushed him back slightly, knowing that he needed urging to leave. He had to go before she finally broke down and Ramsay punished her for it.

"Goodbye, my King," Ramsay said, dismissing him before he went to sit on the edge of his bed.

Isabelle nodded to Robb again and she finally managed to back him out of the room and she closed the door on him, tears falling down her cheek as Robb knew that he had become weak. He should have killed Ramsay when he had the chance, but he would have another chance. He had to.

Isabelle pressed her forehead against the door, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.

"I think that went well," Ramsay commented. "Now get changed, Eleanor. The feast starts soon enough."

...

Isabelle sat down in between Ramsay and Roose Bolton, delicately chewing at the food in front of her. She picked at the meat and sipped at her wine. Ramsay often took the time to press delicate kisses to her temple, knowing that Robb Stark sat at the head table and was watching his every move.

"It has been said that the Stark boys escaped Winterfell," Roose suddenly commented and Ramsay looked around his wife to his father. "No trace was found of them."

"Perhaps," Ramsay grumbled back. "But the Stark boys are not important. If they have escaped then they will find somewhere to hide, won't they?"

"It is to be hoped," Roose drawled back before flashing his eyes onto Isabelle, noting how she looked over to the King in the North with longing.

"You look lovely this evening, Lady Eleanor," Roose suddenly piped up, cutting the vegetables on his plate. "It is a shame that your parents cannot be here to celebrate this event. They say that your father grows more ill with each passing day."

"I have not heard word from my parents," Isabelle responded. "But it is kind of you to compliment my gown, my Lord."

"He was not complimenting your gown," Ramsay responded, wrapping his arm around her waist to push her hip against his. "You would look just as beautiful without your gown," he leered into her ear and Roose shook his head at his bastard's behaviour.

Slowly the dancing began to take place and Roose made a move, offering his hand out to Isabelle and she looked shocked and confused. Roose inclined his head and Ramsay sipped on his wine.

"Would you care to dance, Lady Eleanor? It may bring a smile to your face instead of being forced to sit here and mope over the King."

Isabelle's mouth gaped and Ramsay chuckled. She wrapped her hand into Roose's, allowing him to guide her towards where the band played. She moved her hand to his shoulder and kept hold of his other hand whilst he took her by the waist.

"I understand that being the wife of my son is not an easy feat," Roose informed her in a quiet whisper. "I also know all that has happened. The King in the North has been reckless in trying to return you to his side."

Isabelle's eyes widened and Roose looked at her as he led her around the dance floor. He took a moment or two to weigh her up before looking over to Robb.

"Ramsay has told me nothing, but I have my ways of knowing," he promised her. "You are a sweet girl. I can see that. I can also see that you would do nothing to endanger the King's forces leaving him."

"Never," Isabelle spoke. "I told Robb how foolish he had been. I told him not to do anything more. I am loyal to your son."

"You are loyal out of fear," Roose corrected her. "But do not fret. I have no intention of removing my forces so long as the King in the North's plots do not come off. The time when he does cross me and finally take you is the time when I shall retreat."

"He has no intent of trying anything further," Isabelle promised Roose and the man nodded.

"Very good," Roose spoke out. "Ramsay is not a patient boy and I do not wish to worsen this war. Only you can appease him."

Isabelle suppressed a scoff, but some form of noise escaped her and Roose arched a brow.

"You are his wife and it is your duty to keep him happy," Roose commented. "I am sure that it is not easy, but you have yet to become pregnant with his child."

"And do you think that will appease him?" Isabelle whispered to Roose, daring to speak her mind to the man. She knew how he detested his son already; that much was apparent. "I tried to stop him from going hunting into the woods, but I cannot stop him."

"He is to be Lord of the Dreadfort one day and that worries me," Roose admitted to her.

He knew what he was doing. He was putting all of the weight onto her shoulders. He was forcing her to change his son into a Lord. He knew that it was impossible, but he did not want Ramsay as his responsibility. He never had done and he never would do.

"You already know your place as a Lady, but he does not know how to act as a Lord," Roose continued. "I would see to it that you do your best to alter this when you return to the Dreadfort."

Isabelle had no other option but to nod her agreement with him. He knew what he was doing and so did she. Roose wanted him to be the son he had always wanted. It was merely a shame that he would never have that.

"I will try," Isabelle spoke.

"And in return I shall keep your King as safe as I can for as long as possible," Roose promised her, stopping his movements to place his lips on the back of her hand. She remained stood in the midst of twirling couples, her eyes glancing over to Ramsay as he stood with a serving girl and leered into her ear. There could be no stopping Ramsay Snow; even Isabelle knew that.

...

A/N: Thank you so much to greaserlady, xxxRena, isnotamusedsir, Heratless-Princess33 and Katheryne B for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	16. Chapter 16

Isabelle held her skirts high in her hands as Ramsay took hold of her waist and moved her around the dance floor. She kept her eyes trained over his shoulder as he studied her and pushed her to move her around the floor, both of his hands harshly clasped on her waist. She held one of his shoulders, but the other was bunched into her skirt to stop her from screaming out loud. She wanted nothing more than to yell at someone, tell them what kind of a man Ramsay was. But no one would believe her. People already thought that she wasn't stable.

She suspected she wasn't as stable as she had been.

"Is something wrong, my love?" Ramsay asked, noticing how she was distracted and seemingly in her own world. Her eyes caught Roose's stare as he sat at a table next to Catelyn, sipping on his water. He looked over to her and she knew that she had to try to be the doting wife.

She had to train Ramsay to be a proper Lord of a holdfast. Roose simply wanted her to turn him into Robb, but it wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. But she had to try for Robb's sake. She had to do her best by him, regardless of how much it hurt her.

Forcing a smile onto her face, she turned her eyes to Ramsay and he looked shocked that she was beaming at him. When had Isabelle ever smiled at him? He could not quite recall. Perhaps the first night he had met her? They had been dancing that night too; he had held her cautiously whilst she blushed under his flattering comments.

"Nothing whatsoever," Isabelle replied. "I was merely thinking of something which your father said to me earlier whilst we were dancing."

"Oh?" Ramsay wondered. "And what might that be, my darling?"

"He thinks that it is about time we took up our responsibilities as a Lord and a Lady," Isabelle commented. "We are to be the future rulers of the Dreadfort and with that there comes the responsibility of making sure the people are safe and that the finances are in order."

Ramsay considered what she was saying to him and confusion coursed through his mind. What was she speaking of? What did his father truly want from him? Ramsay didn't know, but there was a part of him which enjoyed seeing his wife speak to him so casually. It was how it should be; her obeying him and trying to make him happy.

"And is that what you wish too?" Ramsay asked from her in a low voice, twirling her under his arm and looping his arms around her waist before she had the chance to put distance between them again. His hands pressed into the small of her back and she moved hers to his shoulders out of shock.

He had stopped moving their bodies amongst the throngs of people, choosing to remain still and allow them to dance around them. People moved and whispered, wondering what the young couple were discussing and whether or not it was so important that they had to stand still in the midst of the floor.

"I wish to do my duty by you," Isabelle spoke to him. "I wish to put an end to all of our fighting and learn our duties side by side. Do you think that is possible?"

Ramsay peered down to her and she refused to quiver under his gaze. She refused to let him win this battle. In a way she decided her comments weren't unfair. If she was to stay with Ramsay then she wanted him to treat her like she wished he always had done. She wanted to stop fighting and she wanted to have forced pleasantries instead of snarls.

"And would you have me stop my hunts into the forest?" Ramsay wondered lowly. "Would you have me put a stop to them?"

Inhaling sharply, Isabelle felt Ramsay's warm breath by her ear and she knew that she could not win every single battle against him. He needed something to entertain him when he was not running the Dreadfort and Isabelle knew that would be it.

"Because I will not do that," Ramsay warned her. "I do not need to do that for I am a Lord. I decide what I do, not you."

"Then continue," Isabelle replied. "I cannot stop you. So long as you give me solace when I require it then perhaps we can try to have some of marriage."

It was all lies. All of it was lies and Isabelle didn't pretend not to know that. She knew it all too well.

Robb remained seated where he was, looking over to the couple who stood still on the dance floor as though they owned it. Well, one of them did. He could see that they were whispering to each other, Ramsay looking full of delight and Isabelle looking as though she had no emotion. Robb could notice the change in her. Gone was her fiery personality, the part of her which loved nothing more than to joke and laugh. Now there was a girl, a shy looking creature who cowered to her husband's every wish.

He could see why she had escaped the Dreadfort. It all made sense.

"Are you quite well, my King?"

Robb looked to his side as the voice suddenly piped up and he noted Roslin delicately chewing on a slice of bread. She looked to him with her wide eyes and her forced smile. Robb took a second to nod back, doing his best not to look back over to Isabelle and her husband.

"Quite," Robb lied. "You need not be so concerned."

"It is only that your attention seems to have been elsewhere this evening," Roslin noted, her own orbs moving over to where Isabelle and Ramsay remained stood, speaking amongst themselves. "She is quite pretty, I suspect."

Groaning, Robb shook his head and moved his orbs to his plate, Roslin turning back to look at him, wondering what he was going to say to her. She didn't know whether he was going to appease her or merely tell her that he would rather have the Lady Eleanor in his bed when he wed.

"She was a maid at Winterfell," Robb whispered. "I suspect you have heard of how she faked her own death and pretended to be a maid?"

"I heard a story," Roslin replied. "Is that when you fell in love with her; when she was your maid?"

Robb didn't speak up then. Admitting to be in love with another woman to your bride to be was not a small matter which Robb should take lightly. Instead he remained mute, biting down on his tongue and wondering why the Gods had cursed him so. But Roslin knew that his silence spoke volumes to her. She knew the look of a man and a woman in love. It did not happen often at the Twins, but she knew it.

"I only hope that I can please you as a wife," Roslin said meekly.

"I am sure you can," Robb responded, the thought of his impending marriage causing him to reach for his wine and slowly drain it down his throat. "And I hope that I can be an amicable husband."

"I do not doubt," Roslin said and her attention was suddenly snapped over to where Ramsay and Isabelle stood. The Bolton bastard had his lips softly pressed against hers whilst his hands tenderly cupped the sides of her necks. There were gasps before applause rang out and Ramsay drew back from his blushing wife, inclining his head to those who smiled to him.

Robb's rage built up as Ramsay wrapped his around Isabelle's waist and led her back over to sit with his father. He kept her in his grasp, not once letting her go as his fingers curled around her waist possessively. Robb wondered how much more he could handle of the sight.

Not too much more, he suspected.

...

The day of the wedding soon came around and Isabelle found herself in a daze. The thought of Robb marrying was one thing, but for him to marry because he needed to cross a bridge was another. She had always known that she could never be the one to marry him. She was not a lady when she posed as a maid, nor was she available to marry when she was Lady Eleanor.

Ramsay had been seated nearer the front of the Grand Hall along with his father and wife. Isabelle once again sat in between the two men as the crowds gathered into the room, each one giggling with delight. It was there when Isabelle was introduced to Lord Bolton's wife, Walda. The woman was plump and Isabelle heard people whisper how her nickname was 'Fat Walda.'

Isabelle graciously inclined her head to the woman whilst Ramsay did the same, only to wrap his hand around Isabelle's thigh and whisper into her ear;

"My she is a fat woman," Ramsay whispered. "It makes me feel ever so fortunate every time I see you and remember that it is your thighs which spread open for me and not some fat whores."

"I am glad I can please you," Isabelle whispered back sarcastically and Ramsay chuckled before Roose coughed and looked over to his son with a stern stare.

"Apologies, father," Ramsay said and removed his hand from his wife's thigh to lean back an appropriate distance, only to gather her hand into both of his.

"I do love a wedding," Fat Walda suddenly spoke. "Tell me, my Lady Eleanor, when did you marry my son in law?"

Isabelle could scarcely recall when she married Ramsay. The ceremony had been so quick that she could only just remember Ramsay placing his cloak over her and whispering lurid things into her ear.

"It was just after my dear wife had her first moon's blood," Ramsay drawled. "She was a timid young thing who dreamt of marrying a Lord with a castle. You know how women are. They read too much. The ceremony was vast enough, but I suspect Isabelle could not take her eyes from me. I know that I could not remove my gaze from her. I recall her gown was an ivory colour which scarcely covered her heaving teats."

Roose shook his head in annoyance as Ramsay chuckled and Isabelle glowered at him. He shrugged back to her and then grinned at his father's annoyed stare.

"She did ask me," Ramsay replied.

"You are in public," Ramsay spoke. "Your wife is by your side and you should be courteous towards her."

"My wife knows what I think of her." Ramsay responded, his thumbs stroking over Isabelle's knuckles as he held onto her hand. "She knows everything."

Silence fell throughout the Hall then as Robb Stark entered and stood at the top of the room near the Septon. Isabelle drew in a quick breath at the sight of him in his furs, his cloak in his hands ready to place over his bride. There was a small part of her which willed for him to look to her, just once. To let her know that he had not forgotten her. But she knew it would be foolish. It would fuel rumours which Robb did not need.

Moments later Roslin entered from the back of the room and Ramsay looked behind him to see the girl, noting the white gown and veil which she wore, covering up her shapely form. His hands tightly encompassed his wife's as he watched her, deciding that she would be better entertainment than that of Robb Stark and Roslin Frey exchanging their foolish wedding vows.

"Does it fill you with pain?" Ramsay whispered into her ear as Robb placed his cloak over Roslin's shoulders. "That in moments from now she will be his forever...that you truly will not have him back..."

Isabelle forced herself to look at him again, his eyes glittering with glee as one of his hands ran up and down her arm, lumps prickling her skin as he completed the motion and she inhaled sharply.

"Not today," she whispered to Ramsay. "Leave me be just for one day."

Shrugging, Ramsay watched as the couple spoke their vows and the Septon confirmed their marriage. They linked arms, both of them looking numb as they wandered back down the aisle. It was then when Robb looked down the rows of seats, his eyes catching Isabelle as Ramsay draped a possessive arm around her waist.

The two of them looked at each other, knowing that there was nothing more they could do.

...

A/N: Thank you to greaserlady for the only review for last chapter. I hope I'm not updating too fast and that you'll let me know what you think!


	17. Chapter 17

Isabelle rested on the bed, Ramsay above her as he finished his final thrust inside of her. He moved his hand from her stomach to her breast, groping at it as his body fell on top of hers; a sheen of sweat covering him from head to toe. Isabelle kept still under his weight as he bent down to kiss her squarely on the lips once more.

She did groan as he pulled out of her and collapsed by her side before she reached for the sheet to cover her body. She had pleaded for her and Ramsay to leave the wedding before the bedding ceremony took place. She didn't know if she could handle watching that. The entire event had been painful enough and Isabelle had been willing to do anything to leave it.

And so she merely sped up proceedings. Ramsay had been sat at the bench with her whilst everyone milled and conversed. It was then when Ramsay began to stroke her thigh, his other hand around her waist, too close to her breast. She knew that there would be no escaping him that night and so she had whispered into his ear that they should retire early.

"I doubt I shall ever grow tired of that," Ramsay mumbled, rolling onto his back and turning his head on the pillow to look at his wife. "You've been very accommodating tonight, Eleanor."

"As you say," Isabelle whispered back and Ramsay propped himself onto his elbow, his hand holding his head as he looked down to her.

"Perhaps this has been the break we have been in need of," Ramsay commented. "I dare say that I have enjoyed this obedient side to you. Perhaps you will be able to avoid the dungeon when we return to the Dreadfort."

"As your wife I should hope so," Isabelle commented quickly and Ramsay moved his hand to her stomach, his touch as light as a feather.

"And as my wife I do hope that you will be carrying my heir soon enough," Ramsay whispered.

Isabelle remained silent. She hardly wanted to mention the small glass bottle of moon tea which Talia had hid in her trunk before they left. Isabelle had been drinking the moon tea every morning after Ramsay had spilled his seed inside of her. She was still adamant that she would not have his children. Perhaps he would think her infertile and then leave her alone?

"Soon," Isabelle whispered back and she made to move, taking the sheet with her.

Ramsay looked at her with interest as she pulled on a thin gown, covering her body before she pulled her hair over one shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Ramsay demanded to know from her and she shook her head.

"I wish to go for a walk. I need fresh air," Isabelle whispered to him. "Everyone will be in bed at this time of night and I have no intention of running away for I know what you could do to Robb. Just let me go for a while, Ramsay."

Ramsay eyed her with suspicion, knowing that she may speak some sense. They had been in bed for many hours, Ramsay never seeming satisfied with his fill of her. There would be no one around and Ramsay knew that if she attempted to escape then it would be in vein. She would not get far enough.

"You may have some time alone," Ramsay agreed with her lamely. "But if you are any longer than I like then I will come and find you. Look at this trust, Eleanor...how lovely it is."

"Yes," Isabelle agreed, forgetting her cloak and making her way from the room.

She closed the door behind her and moved down the empty corridors, not once bothering to notice how eerie they seemed. She kept quiet as she went, her hands held together in her lap. She wandered around until she came to a long corridor with a spiral staircase leading upwards. She followed it up, only to come to the castle wall. She looked over the view of the Twins as the cold night air blew in her direction.

The bridge sat below her, the sight of it angering her. Robb had married for that. She scolded herself for thinking so selfishly. He could be happy with Roslin in time. At least he would not be cruel to her. He would be kind, possibly aloof, but he would never mistreat her.

Isabelle leaned against the wall, her arms folded on the stone and she bent at the waist, peering into the distance. The encampment with all of the Northmen lay across the bridge, but their feast had not finished for she could still hear their echoes of pleasure.

"You should not be up here."

Isabelle almost jumped out of her skin as she heard his familiar voice. She turned her head to look at him, the sight of him startling her as he came to stand next to her at the wall. She remained leant with her hip against it as he turned his eyes to her and noted that she only wore a thin dress over her body.

"Isabelle," he whispered her name and then began to remove the furs he wore from his back.

"No," Isabelle shook her head. "I am not cold...honestly..."

He ignored her as he draped the cloak over her body which left him nothing more than the red leather jacket he wore over his shirt. His hair was ruffled more than Isabelle had ever seen it and she noted a red mark on his neck. Robb noted her gaze and he shook his head at her, brushing his fingers over to push her hair behind her ear.

"I could not go through with it," Robb whispered and Isabelle took a step closer to him. "She was there...naked as the day she was born and I tried...she tried to...but..."

"It is your duty, Robb," Isabelle responded as he shook his head and took hold of her waist.

He needed any ounce of her he could touch. Just holding her would be enough for now. That was what he wanted.

"I do not want her," Robb responded. "All I could think about was what Ramsay was doing to you. I saw you leave early in the feast and I knew that he would not be able to wait to have you. Just the thought of him between your thighs...I didn't..."

"No," Isabelle snapped at Robb, her hands hitting on his chest. "You cannot think of what I go through with Ramsay. It is different...Robb...I am no virgin...Ramsay has had me more times than I can count. It was...is...my duty as his wife to...I have to..."

"That still doesn't make it alright, Isabelle," Robb grunted back to her. "It doesn't mean that I want to have the Frey girl."

"She is your wife," Isabelle replied.

"And she will remain my wife even if she is untouched," Robb whispered back and picked her hands up from his chest, holding them tightly within his grip. She kept silent as Robb bent down to quickly kiss her. She knew just how terrible it was of the pair of them; both married to others, both risking so much just to have a stolen moment together.

"She seems a lovely girl, Robb," Isabelle spoke as she pulled back from Robb and pecked him on the cheek once. "You might grow to love her in the end. She might even love you and give you everything you deserve...in time..."

"No," Robb remained adamant. "How can you expect me to move on whilst you return to that place with that bastard?"

"Because I go back for you," Isabelle promised him. "Perhaps I can salvage something from our marriage? Maybe I can have some kind of peace if I manage to teach him how to be a Lord..."

"And do you believe that?" Robb growled lowly.

"No," Isabelle replied, "but I can try to lie to myself, can't I?"

"It won't make it any better," Robb replied.

"I know that!" she snapped back, her hand balling into a fist and hitting against Robb's chest weakly. She kept mute before resting her forehead on his chest and next to her fist. Robb sighed and moved his hands down her back which was covered in his fur cloak.

"We can do no more, Robb," Isabelle whispered gently. "You need to win this war. You need to find your sisters and end this war..."

"And do you think I can?" Robb worried. "This war has been going on for too long already. Nothing I do brings it any closer to finishing."

"It will," Isabelle replied. "In time."

"And when that time comes then I will come back for you. I will send men to the Dreadfort and I will hold Ramsay Snow punishable for his actions," Robb promised her and Isabelle bit down on her bottom lip, knowing full well that the chances of that happening were slim. The Boltons had forces too; they were hardly going to allow for their future liege lord to be punished.

"Just stay alive," Isabelle whispered into his ear, kissing the spot underneath it as she moved her hands through his hair. "Just do that for me and I can manage to get through the days to come."

Inhaling sharply, Robb took a few seconds before he leant down and kissed the top of her head. He knew that there was no logic behind anything that they had done recently. She pressed her cheek to Robb's chest and her arms went around his waist. She held him tightly and Robb dropped his chin to the top of her curls.

"I should return back to Ramsay," Isabelle whispered, not truly longing to go back to him. "He will grow suspicious if I do not return."

"I am surprised he allowed you to leave," Robb admitted.

"I asked nicely," Isabelle shrugged against him. "But that doesn't mean he will be happy with me if I take advantage."

Silence swept over the pair of them for a few moments and Isabelle closed her eyes, knowing that this would be the final time she was alone with Robb. She had to return to the Dreadfort the following day and Ramsay would be with her for the entire morning when they broke their fast. She sniffed and Robb heard the noise, his eyes glancing down to the blonde hair beneath him.

"You know that I don't know what to do when you cry," Robb whispered.

"You're doing more than enough right now," Isabelle promised him.

"I don't feel like I am," he mumbled back and Isabelle dropped her arms from him, knowing that she had to leave him before she finally broke down and begged for him to help her escape the Twins before morning fell over them; that he would kill Ramsay in his sleep and they could run and forget the entire war.

But that was her selfish streak; the streak which she wanted to show badly, but could not.

"I have to go," she spoke. "Ramsay will wonder where I am soon enough. You should go back to Roslin before anyone catches you too."

Robb wanted to argue with her, but he knew that it was pointless. They both had to go their separate way at the end of the day, but Robb would see to it that their paths crossed again.

"This isn't the end," Robb spoke with determination. "I promise you, Isabelle, that this is not the end for us."

"I believe you," she forced herself to smile before kissing him sweetly on the lips one more time. Robb caressed her cheek and bit down on her bottom lip, trying to attempt to deepen the kiss.

He failed miserably as Isabelle kept her mouth closed and then drew back from him, her hands shaking as she pushed them into her skirts and wandered backwards away from Robb, tears forming in her eyes.

"You know that I will always love you, Isabelle," Robb said to her as he saw her move further away from him, each step hurting both of them equally as much. "I always have done."

Nodding over to him, Isabelle smiled sadly.

"And I love you too," she responded and Robb remained sombre as she gave him one last fleeting look and then turned on her heel to walk back down the staircase and to Ramsay, wondering when she would meet Robb again.

...

He could hear footsteps every so often. The sound of them echoed in his ears and sent fear through his body. His entire body felt as though it was on fire, his hands and feet spread apart from each other against a harsh wooden cross. He could see nothing, a sack covering his head stopping him from seeing. But he kept his eyes closed regardless. He knew that opening them would only result in darkness. And the dark was beginning to scare him.

Voices whispered, but he could never hear anything coherent enough to form a sentence. He did not know where he was, but he had only been told that his fortunes would get worse in a couple of days when the true master returned.

He had lived in fear from then onwards, wondering how anything could get any worse. He wanted nothing more than to run back to Winterfell, repeal all of the terrible things he had done. But he could not do that. He was a prisoner with little chance of salvation.

The only chance he had came in the form of the maid he had pressed against a wall many moons ago and kissed to keep people from gossiping of the King in the North. The King he had betrayed.

...

A/N: Isabelle returns to the Dreadfort and finds Theon in the next chapter which should be out either later today or tomorrow. In the meantime, thank you to C0llapsing97, Guest, CLTex, xxxRena, Katheryne B and greaserlady for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	18. Chapter 18

Isabelle awoke next to Ramsay the following morning, her husband already dressed and prepared for the ride back home to the Dreadfort. Isabelle remained in bed on her back, her hands clasped over her stomach as she looked to the material draped over the top of the four post bed.

"Are you feeling well, my darling?" Ramsay suddenly asked from her and Isabelle kept still, doing her best to think about the next time she would see Robb Stark.

Ramsay crawled back onto the bed, his shirt unlaced to reveal the planes of his broad chest as he leant on his elbow, his head held in his hand as his free arm draped over Isabelle's stomach. She kept silent as he splayed his fingers over her stomach and stroked her skin against her nightgown which sat there.

"Quite," Isabelle whispered back.

"Then why do you look so sad?" Ramsay quizzed her back. "I don't think I have ever seen you look so miserable before. It is hardly attractive."

"I have just enjoyed the time we have spent at the Twins," Isabelle lied to Ramsay, doing her best to smile as he cupped her chin in his hand. "I think it has helped our marriage."

"No," Ramsay shook his head at Isabelle. "You can try to lie to me, but I see right through you. You are more saddened that it was Roslin Frey who had Robb Stark in between her legs last night and not you."

Isabelle could scarcely deny it. He would see right through her like he normally did. He shifted his weight over her, holding himself up by his elbows as he hovered over her and looked at her with content. He hadn't looked at her in such a way for a long time. Ramsay never looked happy with Isabelle, but she never did anything to make him happy.

"I know that is why you wanted to retire early last night," Ramsay continued, "but I confess that it worked to my benefit."

"I am trying," Isabelle whispered, her hot breath hitting his cheek and Ramsay nodded, a mocking look on his face as he did so.

"You are very trying, my dear," he assured her, "but I swear that if I have to spend another moment looking at your miserable face then I will see to it that you are punished."

"You won't...I'll change..." Isabelle quickly spoke and Ramsay kissed her again.

"Why don't you prove it to me?" Ramsay wondered and Isabelle did her best not to sigh in complaint. Ramsay took hold of her left hand and placed it against the planes of his chest. Her fingertips remained soft against his skin as he allowed her to run her hands down to his stomach.

"Prove to me that Robb Stark holds none of your affection," he continued to whisper into her ear as she forced her hands to move to the laces of his breeches, pulling at them as Ramsay continued to whisper into her ear. "You are mine and I am yours, Eleanor. Those are the words we spoke. So honour them before I flip you over and fuck you until you realise it."

Isabelle's hands moved fast then as she reached down Ramsay's breeches, but he quickly caught her wrist in his hand before she could continue.

"I think that I would prefer you on your knees," he spoke and Isabelle felt him roll off of her before she slid off the bed, doing what her husband had asked of her.

...

Ramsay had refused to let Isabelle see Robb before they left the Twins and she suspected that it would be for the best. She would only sob and that would not make Ramsay happy. They left for the Dreadfort that morning, riding hard and fast until night fell over them and they finally arrived at the Dreadfort.

Isabelle looked up to its walls, resentment flowing through her as they entered the courtyard. Talia was stood by the doorway, her hands clasped in her skirts as she waited for her Lady Eleanor with patience. Ramsay climbed down from the horse first, offering his leather clad hand to his wife. She took hold of it and fell down the side of the creature, Ramsay keeping her in his grip for a moment. His hands held onto her hips and she waited for his command.

"Go to our chamber and wait for me there," he demanded from her. "I shall be up soon enough."

"Where are you going?" Isabelle's brow furrowed and Ramsay moved a hand to her cheek, stroking it softly as he searched her eyes. She was so full of pretend innocence. Honestly, Ramsay would still think she was a virgin if he did not know any better.

"I have matters to attend to," Ramsay spoke. "Now go and I shall be there soon."

"As you wish," Isabelle said and Ramsay watched her wander over towards Talia, his eyes gleaming as he did so. Oh how he loved this obedient side to her; the side which kept him happy and kept her safe. So long as she didn't put a foot out of line then she would please him.

"M'lady," Talia curtseyed as soon as she saw Isabelle.

The maid smiled to her and Isabelle couldn't help but smile back at her, offering her arm to the younger girl. Talia looked shocked, but she took hold of her and began to walk through the darkened corridors towards the private chambers.

"How have you been, Talia?" Isabelle asked. "Has anything happened during my absence?"

"Nothing...well...I am not too certain..."

"What do you mean?" Isabelle asked and rounded the corner towards the staircase. The younger girl seemed confused for a few moments before she dipped her voice low, doing her best to make sure none of the men heard her.

"I saw a man being dragged into the dungeon just after you left," Talia mumbled and Isabelle strained to hear her. "They were taking him in through the gate at the bottom of the empty moat. I was on my way home and I hid in the darkness to make sure they didn't see me. They...there are a group of men who mock me and taunt me..."

"Those would be Ramsay's personal men," Isabelle whispered back. "They call them the Bastard's Boys, but obviously never say that within ear shot of Ramsay. He would hate for that to happen."

They continued to move down the corridor in silence until they came to the chamber. Talia opened the door, the bed was already turned down and candles were lit prepared for their return. It was only when she slammed the door shut did she turn to Isabelle and blurted out what she had heard;

"I heard them call the man Theon," Talia said and Isabelle stopped fiddling with the edge of the bed sheet. She stood up straight and looked to Talia with a lack of belief at what she was hearing. "The man who burnt down Winterfell...I think he is the one in the dungeon...they shouted his name and mocked him..."

"And do you think that is where Ramsay is now?" Isabelle wondered and the girl bit her bottom lip and shrugged. "It would make sense, I suppose. He never told me what happened to Theon."

"I leave the castle late at night and I can sometimes hear him screaming," Talia spoke. "Something is happening and it sounds painful."

"Seven Hells," Isabelle spoke and sunk down onto the edge of the bed, thinking about what was happening to Theon if he was in the dungeon. Ramsay would never tell her anything about it. But Isabelle had to know what was happening. She had to know whether or not Bran and Rickon had escaped. Robb had the right to know and not linger in pain.

"I have to go and see him," Isabelle spoke lowly and Talia shook her head.

"You cannot, m'lady," she quickly said. "If he catches you then he will...I have already seen him hurt you before..."

"And I need to know what happened in Winterfell to Robb's brothers," Isabelle said and she quickly thought, doing her best to devise a plan. "I need a sleeping potion...I can slip it into Ramsay's cup and go...he would never know..."

"The maester would," Talia reminded her. "I am already sneaking out for moon tea."

"This is different," Isabelle said. "I will say that I need it to help me sleep. He cannot dispute that or tell Ramsay of it. I need to do this, Talia. Can you bring the potion to me? That is all I shall ask of you."

The girl nodded back and quickly left the chamber. Isabelle sank down to sit on her bed again and waited with patience, knowing that she had to somehow get answers from Ramsay.

...

Isabelle slipped the potion into a cup of wine, swilling it around in the cup to mix it in. She kept silent as she waited for him to return, sat on the floor by the fire in her long white nightgown. She pulled her hair over her shoulders and loosened the laces to the front of her nightgown, revealing enough skin to entrance Ramsay.

It didn't take long before he returned; sweat dripping down his forehead as he did so. He looked to the bed out of instinct before seeing her sat on the rug by the fire. He remained mute for a few seconds, closing the door behind him as Isabelle reached up to the table behind her, holding out the goblet of wine for him.

"What is happening?" Ramsay remained cautious and Isabelle gave out a carefree laugh as he moved over to her and took the cup from her hands. He peered down her nightgown and felt a twitch in his breeches at the sight of her.

"I thought that I would wait up for you," Isabelle said, "to make sure that everything was alright. You rushed off without another word."

Ramsay sipped on his drink and Isabelle continued to smile, pleased that her plan was going right. She kept mute as Ramsay sat on the floor next to her, his legs outstretched in front of him as Isabelle knelt by his side, her hand running through his curly hair.

"It was a mere trivial matter which I do not wish to concern you with," Ramsay spoke and he bent down to kiss her sweetly on the lips, the taste of wine already present on her own tongue. He pulled back as Isabelle remained knelt in front of him and she sipped on her wine, hoping that he would mirror her own action. He did so quickly, gulping down the liquid and Isabelle reached for the jug she had laced with the potion.

"If we are to be Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort then no matter is trivial," she smiled to him and Ramsay chuckled. "I thought that we could stop putting secrets between us."

"Well, if you must know," Ramsay began as Isabelle refilled his cup, "a man was found raping a washerwoman. I thought it might upset you. You are a delicate creature, after all."

"Perhaps so," Isabelle agreed with him. "Is the girl safe now?"

"She is," Ramsay continued his lie as he noted his wife toying with the ends of her laces which hung by her waist from her chest. She followed his gaze and gave him a small smile, leaning closer to him as her head bent by his and he finished his second cup of wine.

Isabelle suspected that would be enough to make him sleep soon enough. His eyes were already drooping before her. She took a few moments to kiss along his cheek as his breathing turned shallow and she enveloped the shell of his ear with her mouth.

"Do you want to take it off?" she taunted him and Ramsay's hand moved to her laces, but soon stopped as he fell to the ground, sleeping on the floor and Isabelle smirked. "Evidentially not," she answered her own question.

Changing into a thin gown, she pulled her cloak over her shoulders and left Ramsay to sleep on the floor. The dead of the night brought no one with it and Isabelle moved with haste down towards the dungeon, her hood covering her face to keep her concealed.

She rushed down the steps and looked around, a vile smell entering her nostrils as she saw him tied to the wooden cross which had entertained her once before when her husband had punished her. She saw that a sack covered his head, concealing his face from her eyes. He was skinny, his ribs poking out and there were scars covering his body.

Isabelle proceeded with caution, pulling the sack from his head to see him finally. He looked a shell of his former self. His eyes widened as he realised who she was and Isabelle instantly felt sorry for him. Whatever he had done, he should be punished by Robb and not by her husband.

"Isabelle," he croaked out her name.

Isabelle did her best not to look saddened at the sight of him. She remembered that he had betrayed Robb. He had gone against a man he swore to serve.

"Theon," she responded. "When did you get here?"

"Water," he croaked out, begging her for a drink.

She looked around for anything before noticing the jug on the table by the back of the room. She rushed over for it and forgot picking up a cup. She held the jug to Theon's lips, tipping the water down his throat. She delicately held his head in her hands as Theon took deep breaths after draining as much water as possible.

"Talk to me," Isabelle pleaded with Theon. "I need to know what happened at Winterfell. Tell me the truth."

Theon looked to her and then to the staircase, worried that Ramsay would come down and find him there. He knew that would be dangerous. Theon had only an incline as to where he had been before he saw Isabelle and she confirmed his beliefs.

"Will he come?" Theon worried and Isabelle shook her head.

"I have giving him some sleeping draught," Isabelle promised him. "So talk to me."

And so Theon did. He told her everything that he had done; from returning to the Iron Islands to taking Winterfell. She had listened as he sobbed about how he longed for his father's approval and how he knew he had been foolish. Isabelle kept silent at that part, seeing the pain inside of Theon before she poured more water down his throat.

"You have to help me," he urged her. "Please...he will kill me...Isabelle..."

"Eleanor," she corrected him. "My name is Lady Eleanor so long as you are here."

"Please," he spoke again. "He will kill me...I can't...please..."

"I know," Isabelle whispered to him, delicately moving to tuck his hair from his face and she chewed on her tongue, inner conflict rising inside of her. "I know, Theon...and what he is doing to you...I know how it hurts and I know that you do not deserve it...well...you might do...but I will try to help you."

"Just let me go," he pleaded and continued to cry as Isabelle placed the jug on the table again and moved back to Theon, loosening the chains which held him in place to give him some comfort. He groaned as she did so, looking at the top of her head before she stood and took his cheeks into her hands.

"He cannot know that I was down here," Isabelle urged Theon. "There is too much to risk. I shall try to find a way to secure your release, but you need to be strong. Do you understand me?"

"I can't...I can't..."

"You can," Isabelle said, growing time conscious. "I have to go."

She began to walk away, Theon's cries echoing through her as she left him alone. She closed her eyes and went; running back down the corridor. He may be a traitorous bastard, but he did not deserve Ramsay's punishment.


	19. Chapter 19

Isabelle locked the door to their bedchamber, relief flooding through her that Ramsay was still on the floor sleeping. She deposited her gown back into the wardrobe and changed into the nightgown she had previously been wearing. Tugging a brush through her hair, she noted Ramsay stir slightly and she rested the brush back down on the dressing table.

Settling down on the floor next to Ramsay, she grabbed his hands and wrapped them around her waist before she settled down in his hold, her nightgown moving askew on her body before she loosened his breeches and closed her eyes. She wondered if sleep would take her and what Ramsay would remember when he awoke. She only hoped that he remembered nothing.

Isabelle's mind tried to turn off, but it couldn't. She spent her time thinking about ways to free Theon from the hell he was in. She couldn't particularly think of a way to get him out without Ramsay knowing. He was lurking in every shadow, either him or one of his bastard boy's. They seemed to know everything that Isabelle did. Every raven she sent was checked before it left, giving her no hope to alert Robb to what was happening.

But she couldn't leave Theon down there. He had sobbed his heart out to her, telling her how he was ashamed of what he had done. How could no one feel compassion? He had done bad things, but who hadn't in the Seven Kingdoms? She was angry with Theon for betraying Robb, but she couldn't leave Theon in pain down in the dungeon.

"Eleanor."

She had been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she scarcely heard Ramsay demand her attention. She looked up and over to Ramsay as he peeled his eyes open and moved his hand from her hip, squeezing his temple as he felt his head ache.

"Oh, you're awake," Isabelle nonchalantly replied and moved to sit up, placing one leg over Ramsay's waist and straddling his lap. She leant down to run her hands through her hair, knowing that she had to act convincingly.

"When did I fall asleep?" Ramsay replied; his memory foggy and Isabelle shrugged to him, pressing her lips along his neck in the hope that he would forget their conversation and merely take advantage of her. She was willing to go through that to hide her secret.

"We were...well...I was..." Isabelle whispered, suggestively moving her hand down to his breeches suggestively and Ramsay quirked a brow. "And you told me of a woman who had been raped and it...well...I didn't particularly feel like being with you after the story and we spoke of it and then fell asleep for a while."

Ramsay took hold of Isabelle's wrist forcefully and brought it from his crotch to rest against his stomach as he eyed her with suspicion. She shook her head at him before kissing him on his plump lips, hoping that he would give up trying to ask questions.

"Why do I not remember?"

"You mentioned having a headache," Isabelle informed him, her hips grinding against Ramsay's hips and he inhaled sharply and gulped as Isabelle tugged at her laces to her nightgown, the questioning in his eyes enough to make Isabelle act brashly. "I hope it has gone now."

"Did I?" Ramsay wondered back. "What are you speaking of? I could-"

"-Does it matter?" Isabelle asked him, her hand holding his cheek. "You had a cup of wine and when you mix that with a headache it is a lethal combination; a combination which no one wants."

Ramsay kept silent for a seconds; his hips instantly moving to Isabelle's hips as she moved forwards on his groin and bent over him, her breasts against his chest and he remained hesitantly questioning. Why was she being so forwards? Isabelle was always shy in the marriage bed, never eager like she was making out to be now.

"And you are eager for a good fucking?" Ramsay checked in disbelief and Isabelle felt a hardening bulge in his pants before she moved her fingers to the laces of his breeches, pulling at them whilst Ramsay sat up with her still in his lap, his hands moving to cup her backside.

She remained arched in Ramsay's hold; his face buried against her chest as he pulled her gown upwards and lowered her down until he was buried inside of her. Isabelle forced herself to moan as Ramsay stayed still, refusing to move inside of her. She took a deep breath as Ramsay moved one hand to the bottom of her hair and tugged it so that her head was pulled downwards and he could move his lips freely up her neck.

"If I find anything out," Ramsay warned her, kissing his way to her ear as he moved her hips up and then suddenly back down, thrusting himself back inside of her in time to hear a groan, "then I will make sure that this is the final time you have a gentle fucking, do you understand me?"

She looked down to him then as she moved her hips forwards slightly and Ramsay suppressed a moan as Isabelle smirked cockily;

"Perhaps you should put a bit more faith in me," she whispered and Ramsay kept still, "I am your wife, after all."

...

"Talia!" Isabelle hissed her maid's name as she sat down on a bench in the courtyard of the Dreadfort. Her maid had been hanging out the sheets that morning when she had seen the Lady Eleanor and heard her hiss for her attention.

The maid bowed her head, walking over to Isabelle and settling down next to her on the stone bench as other maids continued to go about their business, ignoring the future Lady of the Dreadfort.

"Is everything alright, m'lady?" Talia worried.

Isabelle looked around the courtyard, knowing that it would be for the best not to look anyone straight in the eye. She could make out two men in the corner who she knew to be in Ramsay's club. Keeping mute for a second, Isabelle made sure that the men weren't looking at her before she spoke;

"You were right," she spoke lowly. "It is Theon down in the dungeon."

Talia sighed lowly; "Did he catch you?"

"He suspects something, but I think I threw him from the trail," Isabelle whispered. "It meant having him inside of me again, but I'm growing immune to that now."

"Did he hurt you?"

The concern in Talia's voice was something which Isabelle had no expected from her maid. Her eyes widened and she moved her blonde hair over one shoulder, shaking her head back and forth and unknowingly revealing the red marks which lined her pale neck. Talia moved her gaze from them as Isabelle tilted her head.

"He promised he would if he found out that I had lied to him," Isabelle spoke. "I do not intend for him to find out, but I do intend to help Theon."

"But he is a traitor."

"There is more to him than that," Isabelle muttered. "He told me things I doubt he has told anyone before. He is scared and Ramsay is bound to cripple him soon enough. I cannot let that happen to him...no one deserves that punishment."

"And how do you plan to help him?" Talia asked.

"I do not know," Isabelle spoke back. "I will find a way to help him, but Ramsay knows these woods more than Theon ever will. Even with a day head-start, Ramsay would still catch up with him."

"Giving him more than a night would be difficult," Talia said and Isabelle nodded in agreement before looking to the gateway of the courtyard, the sight of Ramsay riding in enough to make her drop their conversation.

Talia followed her stare and bowed her head again. The bastard of Bolton dropped down from his horse and noted his wife sat on a bench in the corner. She looked back to him before standing and lacing her fingers together. Ramsay pulled his riding gloves from his fingers as he went, noting the maid behind his wife and grinning. The girl avoided his gaze as much as she could ever since the night Isabelle had saved her.

"Eleanor," Ramsay greeted his wife. "What are you two whispering about in corners?"

"I was merely asking Talia to fix up a gown for me and she asked me of the royal wedding between the King in the North and the Frey girl," Isabelle lied with ease. "We were just discussing the detail of Roslin's dress."

"Is that so?" Ramsay looked suspicious and offered Isabelle his arm to walk with him.

"Yes," Isabelle responded and took hold of his arm. "Talia, why don't you finish hanging the sheets out to dry now?"

"Yes, m'lady," she curtseyed, "m'lord."

Ramsay led Isabelle away from the courtyard and through the corridors, his grip on her arm far too gentle in comparison to usual.

"I missed you at breakfast this morning," Isabelle observed. "I had the new maester show me the books and how to balance money before I came out here. It was quite fascinating. You should have come with me."

Ramsay kept his head held high. Did she honestly believe that he had time to waste going through books with her? He had a new toy to torture and he had the perfect way to do it. He had gone to the local whorehouse in the town and found two girls who would suffice perfectly for what he had in mind.

"It does not interest me," Ramsay commented.

"Your father believes that it should," Isabelle contradicted. "I am trying my best, Ramsay. I would merely like your help."

"You are more than capable of doing this by yourself. You are scheming enough," Ramsay grumbled back to her and she rolled her eyes before standing still to look up to him with a cocked brow.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It is supposed to mean that I know you, Eleanor." Ramsay complained to her, pushing her into a darkened alcove before he rested both of his hands either side of her head to stop her from even contemplating escaping. She remained silent, wondering what he was thinking of before he lowered his lips to her neck, pressing them against a red spot which was already there.

"You are my cunning and conniving wife," he whispered, biting down on her skin and Isabelle kept silent as Ramsay tried to gain a moan from her. "I am still not entirely convinced about what happened last night."

"What more do I have to do to gain your trust?" Isabelle wondered from him as she grabbed the sides of his head and forced him to look her in the eye. "I want you to trust me, Ramsay."

Ramsay looked suspicious for a second before he kissed her on the lips quickly. "You want me to trust you? Then you should know what happened to Theon Greyjoy and manage to keep quiet."

Isabelle gulped at that piece of information. She remained calm, not wanting to let on that she knew what had happened. But now he was going to show her. If Theon escaped then he would know that it was her. He would assume it and she had no chance of denying it. She knew that she had to play carefully now.

"Come along," Ramsay took her by the hand and led her down the corridors. "He is my new little plaything, Eleanor. I am doing my best not to fuck other women with you being so insatiable recently. I need something to do to occupy my time."

"You are torturing him?" she guessed and he smirked.

"Much more interesting in comparison to reading through books," Ramsay said. "Did you know him at Winterfell? Did he take a fancy to you there? They all say how he loves girls."

"No," Isabelle responded.

Theon had the common sense to know when someone was off bounds to him.

"Well, perhaps he might change his mind once he sees you in your fine gowns in comparison to your boring maid attire."

Isabelle kept quiet as they entered the dungeon and glee formed on Ramsay's face once more. Theon looked to Isabelle, their eyes locking and he wondered how she was going to free him from his hell. She wondered how he was going to survive this hell until that time.

"Lord Greyjoy, this is my darling wife, Lady Eleanor. I trust you know her."

Theon didn't answer him as Ramsay drew up a chair for Isabelle, his arm around her waist and forcing her to sit down on the wood. She kept mute, settling down into the seat as Ramsay picked up a medium sized knife from the table next to him.

"Now, we're going to play a game," Ramsay said and Isabelle shook her head, standing up again.

"Leave him alone, Ramsay," she pleaded. "Has he not suffered enough for his crimes?"

Ramsay looked back to Isabelle and glowered at her. He sauntered back over to his wife and held the knife up in the glistening light. She kept silent, watching how the flames caught the silver of the blade before she inhaled sharply and Ramsay whispered in her ear;

"Sit down or I will do something which you won't appreciate."

Isabelle didn't wait to hear how the threat finished. She sunk back into the seat as Ramsay turned around, the look of glee back on his face.

"So, I shall ask you a question and you will answer truthfully. Do you understand me?"

Theon didn't bother to speak, knowing that it would only result in punishment either way. Isabelle kept silent as Ramsay wandered over to the cross and held the knife to Theon's middle finger.

"I take it you understand so we will begin," Ramsay spoke. "Now, did the Lady Eleanor come down to visit you last night?"

Isabelle's blood ran cold and Ramsay turned his head over his shoulder to look at her. How did he know? How could he know? The only thing was certain; and that was that he did know. He knew everything.

"No," Theon mumbled.

Ramsay made a 'tut' sound before he pulled the skin from Theon's finger. Isabelle's hands gripped onto the sides of her chair as she heard Theon yell out in pain and she remembered how he felt.

"What is this?" Isabelle snarled at her husband.

"This is punishment," Ramsay replied. "Now, Theon, did my darling wife promise to help you escape?"

"No," Theon continued to lie.

"This really is dishonest," Ramsay said and he flayed more of Theon's finger and the Greyjoy convulsed against the wood, his body hitting it and the noises echoing around the room as Isabelle felt her stomach churn.

"Stop it!" she begged Ramsay.

"And did the maester give her maid some sleeping draught to slip into my wine so that she could come down here?" Ramsay checked with Theon, ignoring Isabelle's pleas.

"I don't know!" Theon roared in pain as Ramsay continued to flay his skin.

Isabelle jumped up then, grabbing at Ramsay's hand and pulling it away from Theon. He acted quicker than she had done, holding her by her neck and pushing her away from him, squeezing his hand tightly around her throat. She clawed at his hands, trying to prise them from his skin but failing miserably.

"You lied to me, Eleanor," Ramsay drawled as he felt her gasp for breath to no prevail. "Did you think that I wouldn't find out? The maester asked how you slept...how you had required sleeping draught...did you think that I couldn't put the pieces together?"

Ramsay released her and she moved her own hands to her throat, coughing loudly for breath before glaring to him as he looked back to Theon was still crying in pain, begging for his finger to be cut off and the pain to finally end.

"Now, see what you have done?" Ramsay asked her and he grabbed her wrist and forced the knife into her hands. "Why don't you put him out of his misery? Cut his finger off and rectify your mistake."

"No," Isabelle said and Ramsay rolled his eyes, moving to wrap his arms around her waist, his chin on her shoulder as he forced her to stand by Theon's hand. He slowly slid his hand down her arm to her fingers, entwining his with hers around the knife.

"You caused this," Ramsay said through gritted teeth. "You and your plotting to do the right thing because he is Theon Greyjoy...your beloved Robb Stark's old friend...you wanted to know what happened at Winterfell...to Stark's brothers because you love him...why else would you work so hard not to be noted down here?"

"Please don't," Isabelle begged him. "This isn't fair."

"Do you think that life is fair?" Ramsay hissed, his hand moving to her cheek to force her to turn her head to the side to look him in the eye. "Now, cut it off and I will deal with you accordingly."

"No...please..."

"Seven Hells," Ramsay said as he grew tired of her pleading. He moved his hands with hers to Theon's finger and Isabelle felt herself grow faint as Ramsay controlled her movements to saw the knife through Theon's flesh. Isabelle didn't think it possible to hear a man scream so loudly as she did that afternoon.

Theon continued to scream as his finger fell to the floor and Isabelle dropped the knife. She turned in Ramsay's hold, trying to push past him to escape, but failing miserably.

He moved his hands to her upper arms, stopping her from going anywhere before his arms snaked around her waist and he pulled back to look her in the eye, tears streaming down her face as Theon's yells turned to whimpers.

"You lied to me," Ramsay whispered to her. "You went against me when you promised not to. What makes you think that I won't kill him now? What makes you think that I want you now that I know you're a little liar and will never change?"

"I didn't...I did what I thought was right...I had to..."

"No!" Ramsay yelled at her. "What you have to do is your duty as a wife and nothing more. But now there is nothing to stop me from contemplating handing you to one of my men and letting them have a good fuck from you."

"Ramsay-"

"-I wouldn't bother, Eleanor," he spoke. "You're a worthless whore who will never see the light of day again. Do you understand me? I cannot trust you ever again."

"No!" she roared and managed to push herself free from Ramsay.

She ran behind the cross which held Theon as Ramsay chuckled lightly at the sight of her. She bent down to pick up the knife which he had used and she held it in front of her haphazardly, her hair in her face as Ramsay advanced towards her, slowly cornering her.

"Do you honestly think that you have any other purpose to me but to bear my children and open your legs when I require it?" Ramsay wondered from her.

"Get away!" Isabelle yelled, but Ramsay continued to move towards her, the smirk remaining on his face even as she drove the knife into his stomach.

...

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger! Thank you to Mikki19, xxxRena, Katheryne B, CLTex, 0netflixme0, Kate for reviewing the previous chapters.


	20. Chapter 20

Shock coursed through Isabelle's veins as Ramsay remained stood, the smirk slowly moving from his face as he looked down to where the knife protruded from his stomach and the handle remained gripped in Isabelle's hands. He slowly moved his eyes back to look at Isabelle and her mouth gaped as hot breaths escaped her and her eyes met his, both of them wide with fear of what had just happened.

"Oh Gods," she whispered and Ramsay growled lowly.

"You little bitch," he hissed at her and she dropped her hands from the knife's handle and moved away from him as he turned to face her. "You stabbed me!"

"I told you to stay back," Isabelle responded and Ramsay lunged towards her, falling to the floor in pain as he did so. "I warned you."

"You'll pay for this," Ramsay warned her, remaining on his knees as he placed his hands around the handle of the knife and slowly began to pull it from his stomach. Isabelle knew that she had to act quickly before he moved towards her again.

She grabbed hold of the constraints which bound Theon, releasing him from them and Ramsay watched her with wide eyes, the sadistic glare refusing to leave him. Theon finally collapsed from the cross, his arms around Isabelle to grip at her for support. She helped him to stand upright, wondering how on earth she was going to help him escape.

"Do you think that you can help him?" Ramsay wondered from his wife. "I will scream loudly. My men will hear me and they will stop you...and then...then you can join him in his punishment..."

"No one can hear you scream," Isabelle replied and she quickly noted rope in the corner of the room. She rushed over to it and Ramsay finally pulled the knife from his stomach, blood pooling down into his lap.

He used as much energy as he had left to stand up and moved over to his wife. Theon tried to act quickly, the cross the only thing holding him up as Ramsay grabbed Isabelle by the hair and threw her to the floor before she could even begin to think of binding him. He straddled her waist, refusing to allow himself to fail as he slapped her across the face again, making the motion multiple times and causing Isabelle to feel blood swill in her mouth.

"You're right," Ramsay hissed into her ear, the blood from his stomach covering her gown as he bent down to whisper in her ear. "No one will hear you scream."

It was then when she felt him roll from her and she looked up, the sight of Theon with a broken jug in his hands. Ramsay remained on the floor, limp yet breathing. Theon offered her his hand and she took hold it, mainly pulling her own weight up, but his hand was a comforting touch.

"Go to the end of the tunnel which he led you down," Isabelle whispered to him. "I will bring horses around and we need to ride hard and fast."

"What if he wakes?" Theon worried and Isabelle shook her head at him.

"Hopefully he won't," she said, knowing that it was horrible of her.

She should never wish death on anyone, but Ramsay...Ramsay's death was something which she had spent her nights longing for. For him to die in the middle of the night would have been a blessing from the Gods. But she knew Ramsay. He wasn't easy to hurt or kill.

"Go," Isabelle urged him and Theon agreed, slowly limping over to the gate as Isabelle looked at her blood stained dress. She could scarcely go out looking like that. She did her best to remove it from her body, scrubbing at it, but only getting it on her hands.

She pressed her shaking hands to her stomach, hiding the red stain as she wandered from the dungeon, not once looking back to her unconscious and bleeding husband. She rushed through the corridors, people bowing in her direction as she wandered out to the stables, noting Talia in the courtyard. She called her handmaiden over and the girl instantly knew that something was out of place.

"I need you to ready two horses and take them to the abandoned moat where you first saw Theon," Isabelle whispered lowly.

"Why?" Talia asked and then noted the blood Isabelle was doing her best to conceal. Her eyes flashed with horror before she took hold of Isabelle's wrist to fully see the blood covered on her dress. "What has he done to you?"

"Nothing," Isabelle hissed, snapping her hand back to her stomach. "I...I stabbed him, Talia. We need to leave before he wakes up. Please, do this for me."

Isabelle looked to the girl and she finally nodded her agreement with her. "Are you escaping too?"

"I don't know," Isabelle whispered back, knowing what would happen if she escaped. Ramsay would either die and she would be blamed or he would survive and she would still be blamed. House Bolton would withdraw its support for Robb and she would be blamed. "Do not wait for me. If I am there then go, but if I am not then you go too. You need to take Theon somewhere far from here and make sure he is kept safe. Do you understand me?"

"No," Talia whispered. "I cannot-"

"-You must," Isabelle demanded her and she turned on her heel, refusing to converse anymore.

She rushed back down the corridors and back to the staircase which led to the dungeon. She looked around, noting that Ramsay was still on the floor, slowly stirring back to consciousness. She moved to kneel by his side and he looked up to her, hatred evident in his glare.

"You go...I make sure you never see Robb Stark again...he will lose this war..."

"And if I stay then you do the same thing," Isabelle said. "If I stay then I live with you flaying me to within an inch of my life. Besides, Robb now has House Frey...perhaps he does not need House Bolton anymore..."

"You know that's a lie," Ramsay said, grabbing hold of her skirt in his limp grasp. "So you would leave me down here to die?"

"If you die then no one knows how." Isabelle replied. "No one will know it was me. It could have been me or Theon. Robb would not lose his support then."

"No," Ramsay hissed to her. "You will not do it...you cannot...you are my wife..."

"No," Isabelle replied back to him, snatching her skirts from his grasp. "I was your whore, remember?"

She stood up before Ramsay could do anything further. She swept away from him, rushing down the tunnel in the hope that she could find Theon and Talia before they left. Ramsay remained on the ground, the sound of his wife's footsteps leaving him enough to make him commence his crawl towards the stairs from the dungeon.

If she thought that he could be killed so easily then she had another thing coming.

Isabelle helped Theon onto the saddled horse as Talia struggled with the young man. Talia looked to the woman she served, grateful that she had showed up. Isabelle climbed onto her horse behind Theon, holding the reins from around his waist as Talia moved to her own horse.

"It is not safe for us here," Isabelle said. "We need to ride hard and fast. We cannot stop."

"Yes, m'lady," Talia agreed before they began to gallop away from the Dreadfort.

Isabelle gulped as she felt Theon's weight grow heavier against him. His arm wrapped around her waist and she allowed his head to rest on her chest as she saw the Dreadfort shrink in size. But she knew that they could ride for a day and Ramsay's men could catch them up. She was not an expert on the woods, but she had a vague idea of which way to ride. She just couldn't let them catch up with them.

...

Robb had managed to secure Harrenhal before leaving for his grandfather's funeral at Riverrun with his new wife. He had left Lord Bolton behind and in charge of Harrenhal, choosing not to have the man question him at any given turn. Robb wanted nothing to do with House Bolton, and he had come to learn that House Bolton's forces were vast, but nowhere near as grand as the Karstarks or the Freys.

It was night time when Robb sat in his tent alone, doing his best not to think of what his mother had done. Freeing the Kingslayer had been the most foolish mistake she had made and she was paying for it now.

"My King."

Robb looked up from the table which held the map of Westeros and the statues on top of them to replicate where he would attack next. He had been studying it with intent, but his eyes remained fixed on the Dreadfort, the thought of Isabelle being stuck there enough to make his blood run with anger.

"My Queen," Robb responded as Roslin slowly approached him.

She wore her silk robe and Robb suspected she would attempt to proposition him again. Roslin had tried to do her duty as a wife ever since they had married, but Robb always brushed her off. She often slept naked by his side, her teats pressed against his back and her legs wrapped over his. But she did not get a reaction from him. She never did.

But she knew that they had to consummate the marriage one way or another.

"Why don't you come to bed?" Roslin wondered, settling down on the furs and Robb shook his head, pouring himself another cup of wine.

"I still have tactics to work out," he responded and she pouted before he looked back to the table. He could sense that she was growing bored with him and his distance. But it had to be there. Robb could not risk getting her pregnant; not when he had a war to win and he refused to bring a child into this world which he did not want to love.

"She is married," Roslin finally exasperated to Robb. "You drag me around from camp to camp and we have yet to do anything. This marriage cannot be classed as real until you have taken me."

"I shall leave you in Riverrun if that is what you wish when we reach it. I am sure it will please you."

"And it would please you not to see me," Roslin said and Robb sighed, standing from his chair and looking down to his wife. "You cannot have her. She is married and taken. You have to stop mourning for her."

"I do not," Robb lied.

"You do," Roslin counteracted. "You still think that you can win this war and take away another man's wife. What would you do then? You cannot marry her, nor can you run away with her. You have responsibilities here."

"I shall not discuss this," Robb snapped, knowing that her words rang true, but he refused to listen to them.

He swept from the tent, leaving Roslin to sulk on her own before he bumped into a man who carried a piece of parchment. Robb took hold of it as the man bowed in front of him and handed it over to the King in the North. Robb read through it, wondering if he could be reading the words correctly.

"When did the raven arrive?" Robb asked.

"Just now, your Grace," the boy bowed back and Robb shook his head in disbelief.

Isabelle had escaped. She had escaped and her husband was critically injured. She was to be returned to House Bolton as soon as she was found, but Robb closed his eyes and clutched the paper tightly. He wondered where she was, knowing full well that she was clever enough to keep herself hidden and not get caught. She had to be clever enough.

...

Isabelle had allowed for the three of them to rest near a stream two days after they had left the Dreadfort. There had been no noise of hounds hunting them, nor had any men chased after them. Isabelle only hoped that meant she was leading them on the right path.

Theon rested against a tree, closing his eyes and gasping for breath as Isabelle managed to secure them water inside of her hands, scooping it into her hands and managing to tip some of it down Theon's throat. He lapped it up before she settled next to him and Talia slept on the floor near them.

"Where will you send me?" Theon suddenly asked from her and she shrugged to him.

"I don't know. Robb...I think he will take mercy on you if you explain what happened and tell him that his brothers are still alive somewhere."

"But I took his home," Theon mumbled.

"And Ramsay burnt it down," Isabelle responded. "I do not know the safest place to go, Theon. Maybe you should go back to Pyke?"

"Maybe," Theon muttered back, not entirely committed. "And what about you?"

"Me?" Isabelle whispered back and closed her own eyes. "Anywhere Ramsay can't find me."

...

A/N: Thank you to xxxRena, aleksjoly, Isnotamusedsir, 0netflixme0, CLTex and Kathy for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	21. Chapter 21

Isabelle had demanded that the three of them only rest for a few hours before continuing on their journey. She had sent Talia into a local inn, telling the girl to secure a shirt for Theon and a flagon of water. Talia asked how she had been expected to pay for the items and Isabelle had produced a hidden pouch of coins which she kept concealed on her horses saddle at all times ever since she had first thought of running away from Ramsay.

"But your hair, m'lady!" Talia shrieked as soon as Isabelle had made her demand, pulling a small knife from her horse's saddle. Theon remained silent as he arched a brow and thought about the scathing comment he was about to make.

"How much do you carry inside of that horse's saddle?"

"Enough to keep me going for a few days," Isabelle replied. "It bought you a new shirt so I doubt you can complain."

"And you are certain about this?" Talia went back to the previous conversation they had held about Isabelle's blonde curls which cascaded down to her back. "We should be far from the Dreadfort now, m'lady. Is there any need to cut your hair to your chin?"

"There is a need," Isabelle promised her. "I need to do this to try and disguise myself. If Ramsay has sent men in pursuit of us then I need to do all I can to hide from them."

"And you think cutting your hair will work?" Theon asked from her. "You have lived at the Dreadfort for years. They should know you from a commoner."

"But the men who could ransom me back would not recognise me," Isabelle remained adamant. "I need to do all that I can and it is only hair. It will grow back."

"As you say, m'lady," Talia agreed with Isabelle and she pulled her hair into one hand, the two women still stood by the white horse. Isabelle took a deep breath as she felt Talia gather her hair into one hand and then cut through it slowly. It didn't take long for the blonde curls to come loose and Talia dropped them to the floor.

"I am sure Robb will still find you attractive without your flowing hair." Theon mumbled and Isabelle shook her head, smiling to Talia and resting her hand on her shoulder as she moved back to Theon and handed him the flagon of water.

"I cannot go to Robb."

"The best place for you to go is back to Robb," Theon responded to her and she shook her head at him.

"They would come looking for me if I were to go back to Robb. It is the first place Lord Bolton would send men."

"And would he find you?" Theon wondered, sipping on the water and Isabelle noted the fingers he was missing before she looked away, repulsed with what Ramsay had done to him. She took a few moments to think and shook her head.

"It is too dangerous to go back to Robb."

"For both of us," Theon muttered. "Why did you bring me with you? You could have left me and ran without having me burden you."

"You are not that much of a burden, Theon," Isabelle promised him in a small voice as Talia stroked the horse's manes with soft hands, doing her best to give the couple a bit of privacy which they evidentially wanted. "Leaving you with Ramsay would have been a death sentence which I could not give you to. You have done wrong, but I think you have been tortured enough."

"But I can barely walk anywhere. I cannot ride without your help-"

"-I can leave you if you so wish," Isabelle interrupted him, cocking her brow.

Theon smirked and closed his eyes again. Isabelle wondered how long he could cope with the pain he was enduring. She knew that he had cuts which needed tending to before an infection set in. Theon spent the majority of his time sleeping during the journey and complaining. Isabelle took a few seconds before she moved her hand to his cheek, wiping some dirt from his skin.

"If you're scared about him catching you then try not to worry."

"You know what he will do if he finds us," Theon told her in a small voice.

How could he admit that he had nightmares about Ramsay finding him and taking him back to that dungeon? He could never admit that to her. He struggled to admit it to himself, never mind anyone else.

"Then we will try our best not to let him find us," Isabelle spoke and Theon took hold of her hand, holding it tightly in his own and she saw the fear in his eyes once more.

Isabelle never thought that out of her and Theon she would be the strong one. She slowly moved in between his legs and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tightly to her. Theon was almost repulsed with himself for allowing her to cradle him like he was a little boy. But he held her back, closing his eyes as he rested his chin on her shoulder. Perhaps they were both in need of comfort from each other.

...

"People are talking, Robb."

Robb remained silent as he sat inside of his mother's tent at her desk, still reading over the crumpled up letter he had received a couple of days ago. He could not bring himself to throw the parchment speaking of Isabelle's release away. They were a day's ride from Riverrun and Robb was hoping that he could leave Roslin there. War was no place for a woman, anyway.

"About?" Robb mumbled to her.

Catelyn remained perched on the edge of her bed, the furs wrapped around her shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep her warm.

"You and Roslin," Catelyn said. "People speak of how you have not consummated the marriage. You need to stop the rumours, Robb."

"I do not wish to," Robb grumbled back. "I cannot bring myself to take Roslin. She spends her nights trying to seduce me, but all I can do is think of Isabelle. I do not want her."

"She is a sweet girl-"

"-But she is not the girl for me," Robb replied. "If I were to get her pregnant then I could never forgive myself for bringing a child into this world whose parents do not love each other."

Catelyn sighed and shook her head. "Your father and I were not madly in love with each other when we had you. It takes time to build up a relationship. Your father was not my first choice to marry, but we were happy in. That is all it takes."

"Can Roslin turn into Isabelle?" Robb wondered. "Because that is the only way I would even consider having her."

"Walder Frey would not be happy if he knew."

"What happens in my bed is none of Walder Frey's concern."

Catelyn opened her mouth, ready to speak back to her son but she was interrupted. The flap to the tent opened wide and a guard entered into it, bowing his head out of curtsey.

"Your Grace," he greeted them. "Some men who you sent on a raiding party caught the Turncloak."

Robb stood along with Catelyn, both of them looking at each in confusion. Robb's brows furrowed before he stepped closer to the guard.

"Theon?" he checked and the guard nodded.

"Two women were travelling with him. We have chained them to a stake just outside of the camp. The men grow rowdy and want nothing more than to have him executed as soon as possible."

"I shall come," Robb said and his mother moved behind him with haste, both of them rushing through the camp towards the edge of it, men jeering as other men held them back, refusing to let them harm Theon before the King saw to him.

It was only as Robb approached did he see the two women chained either side to Theon. One had long brown hair hanging down her back, an innocent face for her young age. The other had short hair up to her chin, blonde curls covering her cheeks. But it wasn't her hair that Robb noticed. It was her eyes staring right at him. Robb felt his heart beat faster as he came face to face with them and the blonde closed her eyes, doing her best not to cry.

"Isabelle," he whispered her name and Catelyn stood behind her son, looking over his shoulder.

"Robb," Isabelle whispered back to him.

"Fetch me the key to her irons now!" Robb yelled to the nearest man who scurried away to do the deed.

"Robb, you need to listen to me," Isabelle pleaded with him. "You cannot let these men hurt Theon. You cannot let them kill him."

Robb looked confused then as the man stepped forwards and Robb released Isabelle from her chains along with the other woman, leaving Theon to stand awkwardly against the post, his body wanting to do nothing more than to slump to the ground.

"You know what he did," Robb growled to Isabelle. "He burnt Winterfell to the ground...he turned against me and I do not know what he did to my brothers."

"He did not harm them and he did not burn Winterfell down," Isabelle hissed and Robb looked to Theon, doing his best to continue his glare as Isabelle tugged on his arm. "Your brothers ran away and escaped. Ramsay burnt Winterfell down and he took Theon as a captive. He has been flaying him...torturing him...I could not leave Theon there to rot...you need to believe me..."

Robb moved his eyes down to look at Isabelle as she tugged on his wrist. Talia remained silent, her hands clasped in front of her tightly and her eyes set on the floor beneath her.

"What?" Robb wondered from her as the men began to all gather around closer, wondering what was going to happen. Robb did not intend to execute Theon in front of everyone. He would listen to Isabelle before he decided anything.

"Please," Theon suddenly croaked out and Robb looked at the dirty clothes he wore along with his missing limbs on his hand. He had scars covering his face and Robb didn't doubt that he was ill with some form of fever. "I didn't kill them...I didn't...I'm so sorry..."

"Why did you do it?" Robb asked him, looking him up and down. "You took my home...ruined it..."

"I know!" Theon snapped out, trying to pull on the chains which bound him. "I know what I did and I am sorry for it. I was stupid and foolish."

"The men are demanding your head, Theon," Robb responded.

"He is ill, Robb," Isabelle whispered and Robb turned around to look at the men who were still gathering around.

"Leave us be!" Robb yelled to them, tiring of their wandering eyes and questioning stares. He didn't need that, nor did he want that. "Feast and sleep. I shall speak with the traitor but no one is to harm him unless I say otherwise."

The men moved away, grumbling and grunting whilst Robb's jaw remained firm and his eyes set on Theon.

"You will have your time to explain to me later," Robb said. "It is only with reluctance that I shall allow you to a tent to be seen by a maester."

"Robb-"

"-But I will not forget your treachery," Robb interrupted his mother and looked to the girl Isabelle had travelled with. "My lady, if you could escort Theon Greyjoy to the maester then I would appreciate that. My mother shall go with you."

"I shall not-"

"-Do it," Robb interrupted her again. "I would have this lady have her wounds treated also, along with Theon."

"And where do you intend to take her?" Catelyn wondered from her son, her head motioning to Isabelle as she continued to stand by his side. "Your wife currently occupies your tent. If she hears of her coming back then she will write to her father. Do you know what will happen if she is found here?"

"I would not be here if we had not been caught," Isabelle assured Catelyn. "And I will not be staying for long. I know that the Boltons want nothing more than to punish me for what I have done."

"You stabbed your lord husband," Catelyn said as though Isabelle needed reminding. "It is a miracle he is still alive. He will know that you took Theon and everyone now knows that Theon is here. Lord Bolton will-"

"-He will not know," Isabelle interrupted. "I will leave before the night finishes."

"No," Robb snapped back at her and took her hand with haste into his, dragging her away from his mother. Isabelle did her best to resist him as they wandered further from the camp and into the trees which hid it. She stumbled over a few branches as Robb's pace remained quick.

They came to a small clearing and Robb then acted with haste, lowering his face towards hers and kissing her swiftly on the lips, claiming her mouth for his own. She remained silent as his tongue invaded her mouth and moved against hers. Her hands circled his neck whilst his hands took her waist. He pulled back after a few moments and took her head into his hands, running his fingers over her golden locks slowly.

"I've missed you," Robb whispered to her. "I've missed you so much."

"And I you," Isabelle replied quietly. "But I cannot stay here for long. I tried to kill Ramsay and if he finds me then I know what will happen. I know that he will harm me more than he already has done...and he would take your men from you..."

"I do not need the Boltons," Robb implored her. "I have the Freys."

"And if the Freys caught wind of me being here then you could lose their support. There is no way for me to stay with you. You have a wife...I have a husband but I refuse to go back to him."

"And I would not let you go back," Robb assured her.

"You have no say in this, Robb," Isabelle whispered. "I am doing this to help you."

"And where would you have gone if not caught?"

"I do not know," Isabelle said, her mind racking for a plausible answer but she could not come up with anything. "But I do know that you are angry with Theon for what he did."

"He betrayed me. How can I ever trust him again?"

"You need to speak with him," Isabelle pleaded and Robb's eyes glowered as she tugged on the lapels to his cloak, urging for him to listen to her words. But Isabelle knew Robb. Robb only listened to her when his mind could be changed. "He betrayed you, but he has suffered and he is sorry."

"So he has managed to gain your pity?"

"If he had not then I would have left him to Ramsay," Isabelle hissed. "Just speak to him, Robb. Send him back to Pyke...keep him in a cell...but listen to him."

Looking down to her, Robb took her hand softly into his, holding it lightly as he did his best to forget Theon. His other hand moved to her short blonde curls, stroking through them before he moved his forehead against hers.

"Your hair..." he mumbled and she closed her eyes, the feeling of Robb's warm breath on her cheek enough to make her content for a little while.

"I tried to disguise myself. I know it is not much, but it is something," Isabelle replied.

"And where would you go with your disguise?" Robb mumbled and Isabelle shrugged again.

"I don't know," she replied. "I would go South maybe? No one knows of me in the South. If Ramsay is still alive then I am hardly safe. I would not be surprised if he sent men to hunt me down. Nothing about Ramsay surprises me anymore."

Robb didn't say anything to her then. He remained content for a few seconds holding her in his arms. But he didn't notice the woman behind the trees. Roslin Frey kept herself hidden as her husband cradled the blonde girl to him, his arms enveloping her in a protective manner Roslin could only dream of having from her husband. She did not resent her husband, but she did resent the girl. This was the girl who refused to leave them be; the girl Robb would not forget. It was all her fault.

Turning on her heel, Roslin felt a rush of emotions run through her. Sorrow, hatred, grief; all of them showing at once. But she did know that it wouldn't be long before her husband's secret whore was discovered and sent back to the torture she had grown accustomed to.

...

A/N: So thank you to Mikki19, 0netflixme0, xxxRena, CLTex, Kathy and Isnotamusedsir for reviewing. Please do let me know what you think so far!


	22. Chapter 22

"You need to go to your wife before your men tell her that I am here," Isabelle informed Robb as she pulled back from him, tilting her head so that she could look him in the eye. She kept one hand on his cheek, the other wrapping around the hilt of his sword lightly. She kept silent for a few moments, waiting for Robb to reply and also taking a chance to think of what she should do.

"Roslin already detests me," Robb muttered. "I refuse to consummate the marriage. People spread rumours of our marriage, but it does not bother me."

"And if you do not consummate the marriage then you can have no heir and the Freys would not be happy about that," Isabelle reminded Robb and he looked to the sky, knowing that she was right but not wanting to admit it to her, never mind himself. "Roslin is your wife now. I am Ramsay's wife, and no matter how much we want to change that, we can't. You have a responsibility to your family and I have a chance to escape Ramsay, but I do not wish to stay here and cause the loss of your army, not when you need the men."

Robb exhaled sharply, his warm breath hitting Isabelle on the cheek as she stood on her tip toes to press her lips against the stubble which rested there.

"You would take the girl with you?"

"Talia," Isabelle spoke her name. "She is a sweet girl. I protected her from being Ramsay's latest plaything. I would like to take her with me...and...well..."

"What?" Robb wondered, sensing her hesitancy as she bit down on her lip and looked to the side awkwardly. It didn't take Robb long to guess who she wanted to take with her. "Theon?"

"Your men would have him killed within the night," Isabelle protested to Robb.

"And they would know that he arrived here. He was captured. I do not doubt that the Boltons will soon find out about you being here. What do I tell them? I let you leave?"

"Tell them whatever you must." Isabelle shrugged. "My death has been faked once. I could do it again."

Robb took a few moments before he nodded at her. He could see to it that she was given safe passage from the camp. He would have to see to it. Keeping her with him would be impractical. Roose Bolton would find out and he would send word to the Freys who would in turn send word to the Lannsiters who would find out that Robb's forces had halved. He would be vulnerable.

"Talisa is a healer in the camp. I shall find her and ask her to confirm your death," Robb suddenly said and Isabelle cocked a brow at his quick thinking.

"How long have you had this planned?" she teased him and Robb rolled his eyes, bending over to kiss her again.

"I will do anything to keep you safe, but I cannot give you Theon. It would be too risky for him to also disappear."

"What will you do with him?" Isabelle worried, knowing that everything Theon had done was because of his family. He wanted to be accepted to a real family, but he never could be. Isabelle knew how that felt, but she could not condone what he had done. "Robb, you cannot kill him-"

"-He is a traitor," Robb replied. "I will do as I see fit."

"Just listen to him," Isabelle pleaded with him. "Just listen to him and try to understand how he feels. Ramsay punished him more than enough for you, believe me on that front."

"I do," Robb replied. "Now come along, we must devise a plan before the night is out."

Robb offered Isabelle his arm and she took it with haste, rushing by his side through the encampment. She could feel the men's eyes on her, wondering who she was and why she had been with Theon. She suspected that it wouldn't take long for them to realise her as Ramsay's wife. Robb held open the flap to his tent for her, allowing her to duck inside of the material before he followed after demanding his guards for privacy.

"How dare you bring your whore into our tent!"

Isabelle winced before looking to the girl who had pushed her chair from the desk. Roslin Frey was an innocent looking girl with fine hair and wide eyes that held her innocence. She would have been a pleasant wife had she not felt scorned by her husband and his ways.

"Roslin," Robb snapped back at her, "keep your voice down."

"Why should I?" she snarled back before Robb noted the letter which was folded into her hand. "She is a traitor! Do you know what would happen if my father heard about our marriage? He would be furious along with Lord Bolton."

"And what is that letter?" Robb wondered, moving closer to Roslin as she held it out of his sight and behind her back. She kept her chin held high and her eyes glowered into Robb's stare.

"Exactly what you think it is." Roslin said, her gaze flashing to Isabelle for a brief second. "The Lord of the Dreadfort will want his daughter in law back and I shall tell him where she is."

"No," Isabelle was the one to speak with haste and Roslin looked to her, the hatred evident in her scrunched up face. Isabelle moved past Robb, her shoulder brushing against his. "Please, my Queen, I did not intend to be here, but a raiding party captured us. It was never my intention to come to Robb."

"Save your lies," Roslin demanded her.

"They are not lies," Isabelle promised her. "I know what would happen if it was found that I was here. Robb cannot protect me against Ramsay. I am his wife in the name of the Old Gods and New. Robb's forces would be halved without the support of the Boltons and Freys and he would lose this war."

Roslin stood straight then, looking to Isabelle with wonder. "So why are you still here?"

"Because I intend to fake my own death to escape," Isabelle replied.

"It didn't work very well the first time."

"Roslin," Robb lowly growled her name and Isabelle turned her head over her shoulder to give him a reassuring quirk of her lips.

"But it is all I have now," Isabelle responded. "I did not come here intending to steal your husband. I ran away to escape my husband and that is what I shall do. I know that I can never have Robb, and I know that it must hurt you to...well...know that he is a stubborn mule who refuses to try and be a husband to you. But I will leave before first light with no intention of returning."

Roslin looked unconvinced for a few moments. What did this girl truly want? How could Roslin trust her knowing that she would her husband between her thighs without a second thought?

"I know what it is like to be in a loveless marriage," Isabelle continued trying to win the girl's favour. "But I also know what it is like to be in a sadistic one also. Robb would never treat you badly. He is a king and gentle man, but it takes time to love."

Robb wanted to argue with her. He wanted to tell her that he would love her even when she had left him again. He wanted to hold her to him and forget Roslin; let the poor girl go and find her own chance of happiness.

"If Ramsay were to find me then I know what awaits me at the Dreadfort," Isabelle whispered. "The flayed man of House Bolton is not just a house symbol."

Roslin sank down on the edge of the bed, gripping the edge of it as Isabelle remained stood, waiting for the woman's final answer. Roslin bowed her head and contemplated what she could be sending the girl back to. It was only then when she looked her in the eye again and she could see the despair inside of her. She could only imagine the horrors she had been subjected to if Theon's current condition was anything to go by.

"And how do you intend to fake your death?" Roslin wondered.

"Suicide," Isabelle answered. "Ramsay would believe that. He would know that I had been captured and would be returned to him. Taking my life is the only way to escape him."

"Would he want to see the body?" Roslin continued.

"No," Robb grunted. "We will have moved by then and we cannot take bodies with us. Her body will be buried, but Talisa will support the story."

"And I suspect I should too," Roslin finally stood again and looked between the two of them. "On one condition; she is not to come back here and I am not to see her face again. You are my husband and you have a duty by me now...she is not to come in the way of that."

Robb did his best to force words to leave his mouth. He remained still and silent as Roslin made her way over to him, her hands on his cheeks to bring his gaze to hers. Isabelle felt a pain in her chest at the sight of them. There could be no denying that they did make a fine couple. Roslin was a rare Frey beauty, paired with the handsome King in the North.

"I need a child," Roslin whispered and Isabelle turned away again, blinking profusely to stop herself from crying. "I need a child inside of me to prove that this marriage is not faked as people say it is. You agree to that and she can go on her way and I will say nothing of her scheming."

Robb moved his orbs from Roslin's, looking to Isabelle's back as she remained stood, her shoulders hunched and her blonde hair a mess on the back of her head.

"I have no option but to agree," Robb finally replied and a gratified nod escaped Roslin as she tossed the letter into the fire and looked between Isabelle and Robb. Her husband continued to stare at the blonde with a look of longing whilst she refused to meet his gaze.

"I shall find Talisa and the other girl who travelled here. The sooner she is gone then the better."

Roslin swept from the tent and Robb moved with haste, his fingers splaying on Isabelle's shoulder to force her to turn around and look at him. Her eyes were rimmed red as tears poured down her cheeks and she sniffed loudly before pressing her face against Robb's chest, the hilt of his sword protruding into her belly slightly. Robb felt her hands wrap under his arms and sit on his shoulder blades whilst he placed one arm around her waist and the other snaked into her hair, holding her close.

"I love you," Robb whispered, his voice harsh yet true. "I love you more than anything, Isabelle. I always will do."

"And I love you," Isabelle managed to choke out between the noises of strangled sobs as she clung onto Robb, the realisation that she would not see him again too real for her to comprehend. Robb kept her in his hold for as long as possible that night, wishing for the morning light never to make itself known.

...

Ramsay sat up in bed, anger coursing through his veins as he thought about his little wife on the run with her handmaiden and Theon Greyjoy. How had he let this happen? How could he have let her hurt him? He never truly thought that she would stab him, but he suspected she was desperate for her revenge on him. But now he would extract his revenge. He would see to it that she was brought back to him and he would punish her in ways she had never thought could be possible.

Yes, Ramsay would make her life the living hell she now deserved.

"My Lord."

Ramsay was snapped from his thoughts as one of his personal guards walked in, looking to him with a solemn expression.

"What?" Ramsay snapped, tired of listening to people bleat to him whilst he could do nothing but sit in bed and listen to them.

"A letter flew in from the Stark encampment," he spoke. "The maester opened it. I am afraid it contained some grave news about your wife."

"What about her?" Ramsay tried to shift in the bed, wincing as he did so.

"She took her own life after being captured by the Stark men. They say that they still have the Greyjoy, but her handmaiden escaped. They woke up to find that she had sliced through her wrists with a knife from a meal one of the guards had brought her."

Ramsay chuckled at hearing that, the noise harsh and brutal. The guard in the door looked puzzled at his lord's reaction, but he kept silent. Ramsay's laugh soon died down and he shook his head.

"Eleanor," he whispered her name, "how melodramatic of you."

"My Lord-"

"-My wife was in Robb Stark's company. I doubt he would have threatened to return her to me. Eleanor is not dead, but she is very good at faking her death. She is out there somewhere and I will find her...and when I do...well...I suspect she will be begging me for the knife that supposedly slit her wrists."

...

A/N: So a few days without updating! Thanks to 0netflixme0, xxxRena, Isnotamusedsir, CLTex for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	23. Chapter 23

"How much further is it, m'lady?"

"To King's Landing?" Isabelle checked with Talia as the two of them sat on top of horses, clutching on the reins with tight fingers, their knuckles turning white as fear took hold of both of them. They were well aware that it was not safe to travel on the Kingsroad, nor had they any intention of returning back North. They were travelling as far South as possible. Perhaps they could get on a ship and sail away somewhere? Robb had given Isabelle enough money for her to make her way for a while and he had provided her with two horses.

He had made sure she had escaped in the dead of the night without another word. Roslin had looked at her with distaste whilst Talisa looked at her with pity, tending to some of the bruises on her back which she had sustained and noting the scars which sat there.

"Yes," Talia replied.

"Another few days I would say," Isabelle said. "We cannot go on the Kingsroad, but we may find somewhere to sleep for this evening if we are fortunate enough."

"And we will escape, won't we?" Talia worried.

She had been worried ever since they had left the Dreadfort. Isabelle could scarcely blame her. Ramsay was not one to die easily and word had already been sent that her return to the Dreadfort would be profitable. She could only imagine Ramsay's face if he caught them.

"We have made it quite far," Isabelle responded. "I do not know where we will go once we have arrived at King's Landing."

"My mother used to tell me stories of King's Landing," Talia whispered, her voice soft and soothing as she tucked her hair behind her ear, a sad smile on her lips. "She told me it was beautiful and full of gallant knights. I've never been this far South."

"Nor have I," Isabelle replied. "Ramsay was not one for taking trips. He preferred to spend his time at the Dreadfort."

"It is a dull place," Talia mumbled. "I often thought about running away from it, but I had no money and the thought scared me. I think people fear the unexpected."

A quirk of Isabelle's lips caused Talia to look worried for a few moments before the lady laughed lightly, the first laugh she had given since they had left the King in the North's encampment.

"Oh, Talia," Isabelle whispered. "Fear of the unexpected...you sounded wise beyond your years just then. I often forget you are still a girl of ten and six."

"I have bled," Talia reminded her. "I would be seen as a woman now, wouldn't I?"

"I suspect so," Isabelle whispered back, "but I still see you as a small girl. I did not feel like a woman at your age, regardless of whatever Ramsay had done to me and by that time it had been quite a lot."

"He wasn't a very nice man, m'lady," Talia mumbled and Isabelle looked ahead of her.

"No," she muttered, "and he never will be."

...

It had been three weeks since Isabelle had disappeared from Robb's life. It had been three weeks and Roslin had demanded his attention every single night. The first night he took her had been difficult. She had clung onto his back to steady herself from his thrusts, but he had kept his hands holding his weight, making sure he did not touch her. Every night since then she would come to bed and run her hand down his chest to his breeches.

And Robb could not refuse her. She had threatened him one night when he had complained of being too tired, but she had whispered into the darkness of the night. She had whispered how he would do as she asked if he wanted to keep Isabelle and his family safe. And so Robb had been rough with her, almost unnecessarily so, but Roslin didn't seem to mind.

They had reached Riverrun and Lady Catelyn was still acting as a prisoner in her old chamber. She spent most her days looking into the distance, remembering her father from her youth as she sobbed about his passing. Robb was wasting no time in planning his next move against the Lannisters, but it wasn't until the third week did he have an unexpected visitor.

"My King," Roslin spoke his name as Robb stood over the map of the Seven Kingdoms, plotting his move with caution. "We have a visitor in the courtyard."

"Who?" Robb grunted.

"Ramsay Snow."

Robb closed his eyes, inhaling a deep breath as he heard his name. Theon had sobbed to Robb over everything that Ramsay had done to him and Robb couldn't help but pity him. He had kept Theon locked in the dungeon, fully intending on keeping him alive until he could come to a clear decision about what he wanted to do with him. He had told the prisoner that Isabelle and Talia had left, but he would not have their freedom. Theon had nodded in agreement, promising Robb that he did not care, but he was merely happy that Isabelle had continued on her trek away from her husband.

"The flayed man is on his banners," Roslin continued to speak. "No doubt he has heard news of his wife and is here to speak of her demise. Do you wish for me to come with you? I can agree with your story?"

Robb stood tall and made sure that his sword was sheathed, his hand holding the hilt of it before he reached for his woollen cloak to throw over his shoulders and clasp against his chest.

"She took her own life after I told her that I had no option but to give her back as my men had already seen her." Robb instructed Roslin and she smirked.

"Of course," she drawled and took her King by the arm, leading him from the room.

Robb kept his mind clear as he tried not to think of Isabelle and where she could be. He walked through the hallways with Roslin until they came to the courtyard, the sight of Ramsay Snow stood there enough to make Robb's blood boil.

"My Lord," Robb gruffly said as Ramsay peeled his fingers from his riding gloves.

Robb could see that he was in slight discomfort, bending at the stomach slightly and Robb did his best not to grin. Any pain Ramsay was in was satisfying in Robb's eyes.

"Your visit has taken us by surprise. What is it that we can do for you?"

Ramsay looked to Robb, knowing full well that the King in the North was about to lie through his teeth. He looked behind him to the men he had chosen to accompany him to Riverrun, nodding at them to disperse for a few moments as Ramsay stood before Robb and his wife.

"My darling Eleanor," Ramsay began. "I wish to know what happened to her."

"It was a terrible tragedy," Roslin said before Robb could get a word in. "The girl was caught by a Stark raiding party along with her handmaiden and the Greyjoy. Anyway, she was brought to the temporary encampment and the King in the North had no other option but to tell her that she had to return to the Dreadfort. Anyway, we let her dine alone and we came back to find her...well...she had sliced her own wrists...Talisa, the healing woman pronounced her dead."

Ramsay had to admit that she was telling a very convincing story. She even reached out to run a comforting hand down Ramsay's arm as the Bolton bastard looked away, pretending to play the saddened husband. Robb could see through his act, but he only wished that Ramsay could not see through his.

"We are terribly sorry for your loss, my Lord," Roslin said. "We buried her body in the woods on the way. Her handmaiden escaped, but we still have Theon Greyjoy."

"Even though I demanded for him to be sent to me if he had been captured," Robb added on and Ramsay shrugged nonchalantly.

"I thought that the King in the North would have more important matters to deal with." Ramsay decided to say, each word slow and pronounced as it rolled off of his tongue. "Besides, Greyjoy is not my concern. Eleanor is my only concern."

Roslin's brow furrowed and she tightened her grip on Robb's arm, seeing how he was staring at Ramsay with such immense hatred.

"And we are sorry for your-"

"-She has faked her own death once before," Ramsay suddenly snapped out. "Why could she not do it again? I do not doubt that the King in the North would have helped her."

Roslin gasped audibly. "That would have been treason."

"Aye," Robb agreed with his wife. "And can you sincerely blame her for taking her own life? She had to live with you. What would you have done to her if she returned to you?"

"Things you can only imagine," Ramsay hissed and Roslin felt her stomach churn as the bastard of Roose Bolton made himself stand tall and Robb moved his own hand to the hilt of his sword, preparing to slice Ramsay in two if he made another crude comment. "So you did not help her?"

"No," Roslin said, "and calling your King a liar is an act of treason."

"My King," Ramsay scoffed out before rolling his eyes. "My King would have had my wife as his personal whore if he could have done. I doubt he has much time for you in the marital bed."

Roslin did her best not to look aggrieved as she stepped forwards before Robb could do anything rash.

"Perhaps so," Roslin agreed, "but he is the King in the North and I am the Queen in the North, and you shall show us some respect. I apologise for the loss of your wife. I trust it is the reason as to why you speak out of turn. Perhaps you should rest. I trust it has been a long journey."

Ramsay looked between the glaring King and Queen before chuckling and nodding his agreement.

"You're right," Ramsay said. "I have been terribly rude. If a chamber is free then I shall put it to good use."

"Come with me then," Roslin said, giving Robb a stern look as she led Ramsay through the courtyard and did her best to keep the peace. The Gods knew that they needed it.

...

Theon Greyjoy sat in the corner of the dark cell, the only light from the candle which sat in the other corner of his cell. He had done his best not to sob in pain or in fear. The darkness did that to him now. He was no longer a strong man, but he was a cripple. He was weak and he felt ashamed to carry the Greyjoy name. He sometimes wondered if death would have been better for him.

He remained lost in his thoughts as he heard footsteps approach his cell. He remained curled in a ball, wondering if Robb had come to question him again. But the sight which came into his vision was much worse. It was then when Theon could feel the tears fall into his eyes, the sight of the boy unlocking the cell enough to make him scream for help.

"Now, now, Theon," his voice said, the usual sadistic tone to it. "That is no way to greet me after you ran away from your home."

"No," Theon mumbled. "You can't be here...Robb..."

"Robb is in bed, the jailor has been knocked out. My men guard the dungeon and they don't care whether you scream or not."

It was then when he pulled out the glimmering blade from behind his back and Theon closed his eyes and longed for the walls to swallow him up and hide him from the sadistic man before him.

"Now, we can make this easy, or difficult," Ramsay drawled, grabbing Theon by the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall mercilessly. "I have on question and one question only."

"No," Theon sobbed the word again, wondering when the Gods would stop punishing him as Ramsay grabbed his wrist and pressed it against the wall, looking to the fingers he had cut off. "Please..."

"Where is she?" Ramsay demanded to know. "Where is Eleanor?"

"Dead," Theon mumbled.

Ramsay rolled his eyes and sliced the skin from Theon's finger, the man yelling loudly in pain and trying to fight Ramsay from him.

"Have another go or I will leave you in this cell dead," Ramsay promised Theon. "Now, she is alive isn't she?"

"Please," Theon cried again. "Leave me alone...I don't know...Robb will find you..."

"I will be long gone by the time the King in the North finds you," Ramsay promised with a hiss, tossing Theon to the floor. The Greyjoy boy landed with a heavy thud, curling into a ball as Ramsay's boot made contact with his stomach. Theon whimpered loudly, wondering how much more he could cope with. Ramsay refused to believe that Isabelle had died and Theon needed to make up some kind of lie to be left alone.

"Now," Ramsay hissed, bending down to grab Theon by the throat, "where is she?"

Theon felt the breath being strangled from him and he croaked out incoherent words. It seemed to be enough for Ramsay to release him and allow him to fall to the floor as he spoke lowly;

"She went North...back to House Barton...her mother..."

Ramsay shook his head. "She has no feelings for her parents."

"She thought it would be the last place you would look," Theon mumbled. "You know she dislikes them...so why would she go there? Please...she fears you...she didn't know where else to go..."

Ramsay took a few minutes to think about the logic which was pouring out of Theon and he nodded thoughtfully, standing tall whilst Theon crawled to the corner and curled into a ball.

"Very good, Lord Greyjoy," Ramsay whispered. "I may let you live another day."

"Please," Theon whispered, relief flowing through him as Ramsay believed his lie. He sauntered from the cell, locking it once more before wrapping his fingers around the bar, his lip curled as he did so.

"And if I find out that you have lied to me then I won't be as kind to you the next time I see you," Ramsay whispered lowly and Theon whimpered before the bastard of Bolton left him alone in his cell. Theon closed his eyes once more, only hoping that Robb would find him soon and listen to him of what had just happened.

...

A/N: Thank you to CLTex, Naomi97, Isnotamusedsir and Katheryne B for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think so far!


	24. Chapter 24

It took hours before Robb came to stand face to face with Theon. He didn't know how long he had sat in his cell, looking at the skin which was peeling from his finger slowly. He had tried to rip it from his body, but had failed miserably. It was only when Robb heard of Ramsay abandoning Riverrun in the middle of the night did the news of the unconscious guard come with it.

"What did he ask you?" Robb demanded from Theon as Talisa tended to his wound, cutting the rotting flesh from his finger and bandaging it up.

"He wanted to know about Eleanor," Theon replied to Robb. "He knew that she was not dead."

"And how did he know that?" Robb growled lowly. "Did you tell him? Did you tell him where she was?"

"No," Theon snapped back, Talisa continuing his work as he listened to these two men argue between each other. "He didn't need me to tell him that she was still alive and out there somewhere. He knows that you would never have left her alone to take her own life."

"So you confirmed his belief?" Robb checked, his gaze narrowing and Theon wished the ground would swallow him up at that moment. He didn't need to say anything for Robb to know that the damage had already been done. Robb knew him better than most. He had grown up with him, but he had never been a brother. Regardless, Robb could see through him without trying.

"What did you say to him?" Robb hissed.

"I told him that she had travelled back to House Barton," Theon said. "I know that you sent her South and so I sent him North. I told him that he would never have thought of going to House Barton for she detests her parents. It would be the last logical place and so I sent him there."

Robb looked to the ceiling for a second, thanking the Gods for Theon's ability to lie when thrust into an awkward situation.

"Good job you told him too or you could have lost another finger," Talisa finally spoke up as she finished tending to his wound and stood up, brushing the dirt from her skirt before looking to Robb. "Ramsay knew that it was a lie. He even managed to find me and asked me. I managed to avert him, but there was something inside of his gaze which frightened me. There is no wonder the poor girl ran away."

"You saw the scars on her back," Robb said to Talisa and she nodded. "You know what he is capable of doing to her."

"Yes," Talisa said, "but she is riding South and he is riding North. She is clever enough to keep herself hidden from him."

"Ramsay should be punished for what he had done. He was under my hospitality-"

"-Let him go," Talisa boldy interrupted, looking to Robb evenly. She had never been scared to challenge him, nor had she felt threatened by him. Many spoke of how he seemed brooding and could easily turn against someone in mere moments, but Talisa did not care for that. "You have a war to win and fretting over Ramsay Snow heading in the wrong direction for his wife will not do that."

"Why do you care?" Robb suddenly wondered as Talisa picked up the bag which contained all of her medical supplies and dropped it onto her shoulder, the box hitting her knees and she sighed before looking at Robb once more with a cocked brow.

"Because men are dying in this war," she spoke. "Men who do not deserve to die...on both sides..."

Robb bowed his head as Talisa swept past him, whispering into his ear; "Just think about things before a rash decision is made. Isabelle is a smart girl...and not your wife."

Robb looked to her then, knowing what she was indicating. If Roslin got any wind of Robb sending men after Ramsay or Isabelle then she would instantly send Ramsay in the right direction and see to it that Robb loses the war. His wife had seemed pleasant, but Robb had come to know better. He had come to learn better. She felt betrayed by everything he had done, and a woman betrayed was no woman to trifle with.

Talisa swept from the dungeon as Robb took a few more moments to look to Theon, his lifelong friend staring back at him with a narrow stare.

"Do you think that he won't find her?" Theon whispered.

Robb's brows furrowed. "You sent him North."

Theon shook his head, fear rising up inside of him as he thought of Ramsay and what he would do if, no, when, he realised Theon had lied to him. Ramsay would come back and he would torture him. It was what Theon dreamt of every night, the nightmares often keeping him awake in fear of going to sleep.

"You don't know him," Theon whispered, curling back into his ball. "I knew him for a few days and that was enough...he doesn't give up until he has what he wants...he never gives up..."

Robb almost allowed himself to look concerned as he heard Theon whisper, the fear evident in the man's voice as he closed his eyes and recalled what had happened to him in that dungeon. Robb locked the cell again, a whimper escaping Theon as the metal clicked and Robb moved from the dungeon, fully intent on thinking of what he could do to make this right.

...

Isabelle had managed to secure work in a tavern in King's Landing whilst Talia worked as seamstress in a local dressmakers. The girls had a room in a large building just by the City Wall. Isabelle often found herself working late nights and that was when fear took hold of her. Wandering back to their room would fill her with fear as men called for her to join them and others merely taunted her. She rushed with haste, pulling at her simple blue gown's skirt to keep them from making her trip over.

"Isabelle, thank the Gods!" Talia gasped one night when the girl returned to her.

Talia had thrown her arms around the woman she had previously addressed as 'm'lady.' But Isabelle had made her forget formalities, and even she didn't care for them now. Talia was like the sister she had never had and she loved her more than she had her own family.

Isabelle took the quivering girl by the arms and led her to her bed underneath the open window. She sat her down, the mattress dipping under their weight. There were some candles alight in the room, some on top of the small table with two chairs in the corner and the others on the bedside table the girls shared. A simple wooden wardrobe stood behind the door which was almost permanently locked in fear of someone finding them in the middle of the night.

"Lady Whelp came into the seamstresses this morning...she's a prickly old goat, but she demanded for her dress to be finished two days earlier than planned," Talia commented, "but she came with gossip...and I was going to come to the tavern and find you...but I know that they don't let me distract you."

"What is it, Talia?" Isabelle wondered what had gotten the girl all hot and flustered.

"It's your parents," Talia whispered, "they were found dead...poisoned..."

Isabelle's mouth gaped as she shook her head back and forth. Who would have wanted to poison her parents? She had not been fond of them, but she had never wished death upon them. She had no emotions to them after they had sold her to Ramsay.

"But Ramsay had been there less than a day ago," Talia spoke and it was then when Isabelle felt her blood boil and her hands held tightly onto Talia's wondering if she was hearing the girl correctly. "There are whispers that he killed them like he did Lord Bolton's true son...but no one dare accuse him of that...no one knows the truth..."

"I do," Isabelle replied. "But why did he go there? He should have known that is the last place I would have been?"

"Perhaps that is why he went there?" Talia replied. "I do not know how his mind works, but I had to tell you what I found out."

"And I am glad you did," Isabelle said, hugging the girl tightly for a few moments. "My parents were never close to me. I don't think they particularly ever cared for me like I had wished, but if this is Ramsay trying to bring me out of hiding then it won't work."

"He won't find you here, Is," Talia responded, pulling back to look at her. "He isn't clever enough to think of King's Landing."

"It just makes me wonder what lengths he is prepared to go to," Isabelle replied slowly. "He obviously does not believe me to be dead, but I will not come out of hiding and go back to him, regardless of how many tantrums he throws."

...

"You've become reckless," Roose Bolton hissed when his son finally arrived at Harrenhal after Roose had demanded his attendance. He had looked at Ramsay with distaste before leading him into the dilapidated small office which he had been using as his own personal space. His son sat down at the table, his feet resting on it as Roose remained stood by the warm fire, his glare obvious and full of anger.

"No one knows that I killed them. I left no evidence," Ramsay responded, moving his upper body to allow his hand to grab the cup and the jug of wine. "I need a way to bring her out of hiding."

"She is dead," Roose hissed and Ramsay let out a humourless laugh at hearing that, shaking his head back and forth whilst Roose remained stern.

"And if you believe that then you are as a big a fool as Robb Stark is," Ramsay scoffed, gulping down the liquid before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I went to see Lord Greyjoy when I was there. He told me that she had headed North to her mother and father. I arrived and sacked Bardtower and there was nothing. They said that they had not seen Eleanor in years."

"And so why did you kill them?"

"I need some way to make my darling wife come out of hiding," Ramsay smirked. "I thought that starting with her parents would be a nice touch."

"She detested her mother and father."

"She should hear the gossip and know that I will not stop there. I would have her precious Robb Stark's head decorate the Dreadfort by the time Winter arrives," Ramsay said and Roose snatched his cup from his, slamming it down on the table before pushing his feet from the dirtied wood.

"You will watch your tongue," he snapped at him. "There are men here who are loyal to Robb Stark."

"They are loyal to you," Ramsay hissed back. "And are you going to let him get away with this? He helped my wife to fake her own death."

"We do not know that for certain."

"Yes we do!" Ramsay snapped back. "He would have been between her thighs before she begged him to help her. He would never have returned her to me and she would never have taken her own life. You know that, you're just too scared to act on it."

"And what would you have me do? Robb Stark has won every battle he has fought. The Lannisters are scattered and the entirety of the North sides with the King in the North. I will not go against them and risk my home for your wife."

"And if other forces joined? If other forces learned that the King is nothing more than a wife stealer?"

"Do you think that they would care?" Roose wondered. "You will do nothing to endanger Robb Stark or anyone else. If you want your wife back then go and hunt her down yourself, but do not play these dangerous games which could cost me."

Ramsay looked like a petulant child as he stood up and glowered to his father, wondering how he could be so weak and pathetic. It made him look ridiculous in Ramsay's eyes. Grinding his teeth together, Ramsay took a few moments to stare back at his father before he balled his hands into fists by his sides.

"Robb Stark took my wife-"

"-Your wife ran from you," Roose corrected. "By all means, punish the girl if you find her, but do not cost me my life or the Dreadfort with your reckless behaviour. Do you understand me?"

Ramsay said nothing, turning on his heel to storm out of the room, not even bothering to acknowledge his father's question. Ramsay would do whatever he pleased, regardless of whether or not his father agreed with him.

...

A/N: Thank you to xxxRena and CLTex for reviewing the previous chapter. Hope you're all having a great weekend and please do review!


	25. Chapter 25

Robb read through the letter which had informed him that Ramsay Snow was currently residing at Harrenhal with his father after leaving Bardtower and its residents dead in his path. Of course there had been no evidence. People muttered that there were still ironborn men in the North, raping and pillaging as much as they could. But Robb knew better than that. Rumours held no truth, and the truth was that Ramsay Snow was responsible for everything.

"You have been reading that damned letter for ages," Roslin's voice suddenly whined as she lounged on the four post bed in the middle of the room. Robb ignored her, content to sit at the desk and read the letter another hundred times if it kept him from their marital bed. "You need not fear, my moon's blood passed the other day. You have given me no heir yet."

Robb closed his orbs, a sense of relief flowing through him as he placed the letter onto the desk and finally stood up. He began to shed his cloak from his shoulders, pacing the room as he did so. The fire in the wood was still burning and provided the only source of heat and life.

"You could at least pretend to look sorry," Roslin whispered back and Robb ground his teeth together.

"I'm sorry," he spoke to her, the words clearly forced and insincere. "Perhaps next time you shall be fortunate."

"We," she corrected him, pulling her knees to her chest and crossing her ankles. "The child will be ours."

"I am well aware," Robb responded in a mumble, finally stripping down to nothing but his breeches and shirt. "But war is no time for a babe to arrive. It could be too dangerous for you."

Roslin scoffed and Robb sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching for the cup of wine on the bedside cabinet and draining it as Roslin draped herself over him, her arms under his as her hands ran up the planes of his chest. He kept still as she bit down on his shoulder, a small smirk on her face as she did so.

"When are you going to forget?" she dared to ask Robb. "The girl has gone and that is all there is to it. She is not your wife and she never will be. It has been weeks since you have last seen her."

"And you think that is long enough for me to forget about her?" Robb checked with Roslin.

"Well when will it be long enough?" Roslin hissed back. "Do you think that I don't know how you wish it were her underneath you when you take me? Or how you whisper her name when you're asleep in the dead of the night? You have no idea how I feel."

Roslin pulled back from Robb and sat against the headboard, pulling the covers around her body so that they could pool at her lap. Robb sighed and ran a hand along his temple, wondering what he could do to appease his wife. It had never been his intention to make Roslin unhappy. He had never wished for that. But he did not wish for her in general.

"I'm sorry," Robb finally apologised after an awkward silence. "I know that you deserve someone better than me...someone who would love you..."

"But I ended up with you," Roslin said. "It isn't about what we deserve; it is about what we get. I doubt anyone truly has what they deserve."

Robb moved to sit on the bed beside his wife, staying on top of the furs as she slowly moved to curl into a ball, not entirely in the mood for lovemaking that evening. Robb watched her turn away from him and he knew that he had given her a loveless marriage. He felt sorry for her, he truly did, but he could not pretend that she held his heart. He had given that away a long time ago to a serving maid from Winterfell.

...

Talia would often sit up in the middle of the night, watching Isabelle as she squirmed around in her bed, her covers and nightgown askew on her body as she slept through the nightmares she had. It would always end the same way; Isabelle sitting up straight and panting for breath, sweat dripping down her brow. Talia would always comfort the girl, urging her back to sleep and telling her that everything would be alright. But it was always his name she whispered during the nightmares. Ramsay would always haunt her.

Isabelle awoke early after the nightmares, often changing and wandering out of the home to go and look through the market for fresh food. The kitchen in their shared home was usually empty, the women choosing to whore themselves and the men choosing to enjoy their pleasure as often as possible.

"My dear," a small man suddenly spoke as Isabelle took hold of two apples and dropped them into the basket she carried with her, "how about an exotic fruit, just for you?"

"Oh, I really don't have the money," Isabelle said, the man behind the stall pressing the lemon into her hand before turning away to deal with another customer. But it wasn't the lemon which bothered Isabelle, it was the note attached to it.

She dropped the fruit into her basket, the small piece of parchment in her hand as she unravelled it and read the message. Her brows knitted together in confusion before she looked around, wondering if anyone was watching her. Pressing the note to the bottom of the basket, she stood tall and wandered the streets, finally coming to the place the note had spoken of.

She looked around slowly, her eyes widening as she realised she was right on the edge of the place they called Flea Bottom. Although the view hardly befit its name. She stood at the edge of the path, rocks beneath her as the sea lapped against them. Children played in the shallow depths of the water, laughing and giggling as though they did not have a care in the world. The sun beat down over Isabelle, the heat causing her to sweat in her cheap cotton gown.

"My Lady, how good of you to come."

Isabelle turned her head over her shoulder to the sight of a bald headed man approaching her in a fine gown. His hands were laced together in his sleeves and his eyes were scrunched up due to the beating sun. He finally stood before Isabelle, rocking back on his heels as he gave a small knowing smile.

"I can see why the Young Wolf was quite taken with you," he spoke. "You have a rather fair complexion. The sun must be horrid for such pale skin."

"I think you have the wrong person," Isabelle said.

"Now, now, we both know that not to be true," he responded. "I am well aware of whom you are and your tale, Lady Eleanor, there is no need to lie to me. You cannot lie to the master of whispers."

Isabelle's orbs widened as she laced her own fingers together, the basket dangling on her wrist as she felt her mouth dry up, wondering if this was some kind of trick on her part. Why had she come? Why did she listen to the message?

"And I have yet to have the pleasure of your name."

"No pleasure," he replied, "but I am Varys."

"And what is it you wanted Lord Varys?"

"Oh, I want many things, dear," Varys sighed, offering her his arm for her to walk with him along the coast. She hesitantly took his arm, holding her basket in her right hand as her eyes remained on the sea. "I wish for the Summer never to end. I wish for a long and prosperous life, but at this moment in time, I wish for an end to the war and bloodshed. I think it is something which might not happen as soon as I had hoped for."

"And why do you need me for that?"

"I had heard tales about your husband, the bastard of Bolton. I trust them to be true," Varys spoke in a hushed tone. "If so then I have some news which you should know of."

"And what would that be?"

"He rides for King's Landing."

Standing still, Isabelle felt her heat beat quicken and her pulse race. Varys looked to her, the frightened expression on her face enough to tell him that her years of torture still haunted her, even whilst pretending to be dead.

"He does not know you are here, my dear," Varys spoke softly, taking Isabelle's hands into his and giving them a squeeze which Isabelle assumed was meant to be comforting. She kept silent, her mouth drying up and her mind going blank. "He does not think you dead, however. He searches for you and leaves a trail of destruction wherever he goes."

"Then why does he ride for King's Landing?" Isabelle fretted.

"I do not know as of yet," Varys responded. "I merely wished to inform you of his arrival. I apologise it had to be done in such secrecy."

Nodding, Isabelle took her hands from Varys, her left hand shaking as she moved to run it through her hair in a nervous motion. She looked back out to sea, gulping as she thought about Ramsay being in the same city as her. That was enough to fill her with dread.

"Why did you tell me?" Isabelle replied and Varys gave her a sad smile. "How did you know I was here?"

"I have no intention of returning you to him so you need not look so worried," Varys assured her in a soothing voice. "I am the master of whisperers, my dear. Your death shocked so many, but rumours of it being false spread. It was not as difficult as you may think. I have heard of what he did to you and I thought forewarning would be for the best. I doubt you would want anymore scars on your skin."

Isabelle watched as Varys slowly turned from her after a departing nod and she watched him go, wondering whether or not she could trust that man.

...

Tywin Lannister was not one who was used to dealing with bastards. He could scarcely believe that he had one sat in front of him at his desk right at that very moment. He looked up once as the boy had walked in as though he had the upper ground, his eyes looking at the surroundings of the Tower of the Hand. He had scraped the chair against the floor before he sat down, his plump lips turning into a smile as Tywin returned to finish writing his letter.

"What is it that I can do for you, Ramsay?" Tywin suddenly asked, dispersing with titles for the bastard of Roose Bolton.

Ramsay lounged back in his chair, his arms resting on the armrests and his fingers lacing together. There was a cocky look about him which Tywin wouldn't mind wiping off of his face. But he kept silent, waiting for the boy to speak of his reason for being in King's Landing.

"I suspect there is nothing you would want more than for the King in the North's head to decorate the Red Keep. The existing ones do look rather menacing."

Tywin kept silent, trying to weigh up the man in front of him.

"I think that is something everyone is aware of." Tywin picked his words carefully.

"And what if I told you that I knew of a way that it could happen?"

"Then I would ask what you knew."

Ramsay leaned out to pour himself a cup of wine, not bothering to ask if he could take one. "I know that the King in the North has angered a lot of people. If you were to have House Frey and House Bolton turn against him then it would be possible."

"He married a Frey."

"He would rather fuck a Bolton," Ramsay counteracted. "He helped to fake my wife's death. He dishonours his own Frey wife every single day by refusing to give her the attention she so desires. If the Freys knew how he planned to discard her after this war then I doubt they would be very happen."

"And does he plan to discard her?"

"You can have him plan to do whatever he wishes," Ramsay grinned back.

"And run away with your wife?" Tywin checked. "The wife who killed herself."

"The Greyjoy boys says otherwise." Ramsay shrugged. "Eleanor has never been melodramatic up until now. But I would say that he has kept her in hiding somewhere, waiting until the war is over and he can take her far from Westeros. He would have used House Frey, and I doubt Lord Walder would accept that."

Tywin didn't wish to confess himself impressed with the working of the boy's mind, but he did see logic to it. Lies on top of lies; they were something Tywin could cope with.

"My father would rally to your side too if he knew that you could win with the most numbers. He is rather fickle," Ramsay assured Tywin.

"And how do you propose we capture the Young Wolf?"

"He sits idle at Riverrun...there has to be some way to have him return to the Twins where Lord Walder resides. He has more men who wait there and who would turn against him."

Nodding, Tywin considered the ploy with intent before he stood up, his hand running around the perimeter of his desk. He lowered his eyes to look to Ramsay, the boy not once faltering under his menacing stare.

"And what do you want in return?"

Ramsay stood up then, his cloak draping down his back as he kept his chin high. "I want my wife to come out of hiding. I want you to hold the Wolf King prisoner and send ravens that he will not be harmed if she makes herself known...tell her that we shall send him to the Wall."

"And she will believe that?"

"She would do anything for Robb Stark," Ramsay replied.

"But you are well aware that I would not send him to the Wall."

Ramsay's grin grew larger then, the sadistic look on his face enough to make Lord Tywin wonder what kind of horrors Ramsay inflicted on his wife.

"I will even swing the sword to cut his head from his body if that is what you wish."

...

A/N: Oh Ramsay...anyway, thank you to Dark G0ddess, Mikki19, CLTex, Kate, Isnotamusedir and xxxRena for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	26. Chapter 26

Isabelle didn't notice Ramsay's presence in King's Landing. No one spoke of his arrival like they did the Tyrells. He had come and gone by the time she received another note asking her to go down to the coast of Flea Bottom after she had finished work that evening. The note had been passed to her after a customer had handed her a coin for his jar of ale. He had winked and she had turned away, reading the note and then tossing it into the fire on her way to collect empty cups from tables.

She finished her shift in the tavern and wandered the streets, folding her arms over herself to keep her body warm. She had found the nights in King's Landing never to be cold enough to warrant a cloak like they did at Winterfell. Going out without a cloak was madness in the North.

She came to the seafront, peering up to the moon which lit the clear ocean. The waves were gently lapping against the rocks beneath the pathway she stood on, a melodic sound entering her ears as she waited with patience for Varys to appear. She had assumed it was Varys who would come to her in the end.

"Lady Eleanor."

She turned on her heel and looked to where the voice had come from. As she had suspected, Lord Varys was rushing towards her, a look of hesitance on his face as he finally stood before her. Isabelle remained still, trying to weigh up the man in front of her as he kept still, wondering if he should be telling her this piece of information? What would she do with it? Varys didn't want to send her to her own death, but he didn't want for the King in the North to die. But what did Varys truly want?

"Lord Varys," she responded. "Your note said that you had an urgent matter to discuss with me."

"Urgent enough," Varys replied and motioned for the pair of them to begin walking again. "You should be pleased to know that your husband left King's Landing this morning with his men. He travels to join his father at Harrenhal."

"That is good news," Isabelle agreed with him limply and he nodded. "What more is there to tell?"

"Your husband came to King's Landing to converse with the Hand of the King," Varys said, looking to the sea and remembering those times he had spent across of it. "He devised a plan for Robb Stark to be captured. A most imaginative plan, but a plan nonetheless."

Isabelle stopped walking then, looking to Varys and urging him to continue with his tale.

"The boy knows that you are alive. Theon Greyjoy was the one who told him of that, but he has informed Tywin Lannister that Robb Stark faked your death and sent you away to be kept in hiding until the war is done. After the war, you two would run off to somewhere exotic and spend your days together," Varys said and Isabelle's mouth gaped. She could not deny that Ramsay had one lucid imagination.

"My husband always has been cunning," Isabelle snarled, "but the tale is not true."

"The truth is what people make it," Varys responded hastily. "And if Ramsay Snow intends to make this the truth then the King in the North has no hope of keeping the support of his army. The Freys intend to turn against him and give him up to the Lannisters. The Boltons will no doubt join them. Once he is captured there is no King in the North."

Isabelle felt herself turn lightheaded at the information, knowing full well that this would ruin Robb. Ramsay's plot would destroy him, but what did Ramsay get from this arrangement.

"He intends to send ravens asking for you to turn yourself in and Robb would then live out the rest of his days at the Wall," Varys answered her unspoken question.

Looking away horrified, Isabelle stared out to the sea, tears forming in her eyes. She should have made sure that Ramsay had died. She should have stabbed him in the stomach until the vile words stopped falling from his mouth, until he said no more and could do no more.

"I think we both know that Tywin Lannister has no intention of sending him to the Wall," Varys concluded with a small whisper and Isabelle wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Varys could see the emotions playing on the girl's face at the same time. There was anger, fear, but most of all there was hatred.

Isabelle sniffed and dropped her hands to fold into her skirts; "What do I do?"

"Stay alive," Varys spoke.

"And Robb? Have you sent a raven to him?"

"No one is supposed to know of this plan. I can scarcely send a raven to him...there are spies everywhere who would know."

"So how did you get this information?"

Varys could sense the girl's anger was raging inside of her; "As I said, there are spies everywhere. Whatever you do, I would advise you not to hand yourself over to Ramsay Snow. It will not end happily."

"So I have to go and warn Robb," Isabelle whispered. "I have to ride and tell him that the men following him have no intention of aiding him in this war."

"And if you ride there then you confirm everyone's belief," Varys quickly replied, raising his voice an octave higher than he had intended to do. "The men would keep you prisoner and send you back to the Dreadfort whilst they slay Robb Stark in front of you."

Isabelle could see the point Varys was trying to make, but it didn't mean that she had to like it.

"I need to tell him. I can sneak in somehow and do it. Ramsay cannot win again," Isabelle spun on her heel and began to walk away from Varys, refusing to listen to him anymore for she knew that he would just try to stop her from leaving. But Isabelle knew what she had to do. She had to save Robb from Ramsay's clever plot, regardless of the cost to her life.

...

Roslin sat next to her husband as her relatives sat across from them. Black Walder and Lothar Frey had been sent to Riverrun for reasons which Roslin herself did not know. Their arrival had shocked Robb and he had asked his wife whether or not she knew they were travelling to Riverrun. She had shrugged nonchalantly and assured him that she was just as confused as he was. It took a few moments for them to decide where to greet them, and Roslin suspected over dinner sounded like a good plan. And so there they sat. The King and Queen in the North across from Black Walder and Lothar Frey, each one of them staring at each other.

"I have to say that it is a pleasant surprise to find you here, Walder," Roslin smiled over to the man straight across from her. "Lord Walder sent no word that you would be travelling here."

"We thought that we would surprise you," Lothar smiled menacingly, a smile which Robb did not appreciate coming his way. "You see, there has been talk about a certain Lady of the Dreadfort which our father did not approve of; talk that she is still alive and in hiding."

Roslin picked up her cup of wine and placed it to her lips, shaking her head. Robb remained mute, his hand balled into a fist on the table as he refused to eat the meal which had been placed in front of him.

"It is a terrible shame what happened to Lady Eleanor," Roslin commented.

"Some say she is not dead," Lothar continued. "Some believe that she is being kept hidden away for the King in the North to whisk away when this war has finished."

Robb took a second to snort, but Roslin almost looked worried. Would her husband do that to her? Had he plotted to do that once the war had finished? Run away with that little whore?

"And who says that?" Robb wondered back. "No doubt her husband."

"And others," Lothar shrugged. "You can see why it has worried Lord Walder. He would hate for the Frey name to be disgraced and Roslin to be cast aside. It would upset him terribly."

"Lady Eleanor is dead," Robb adamantly replied. "Unless Lord Walder can prove otherwise then these rumours are without foundation and are a waste of my time."

Robb made to stand, but Roslin took hold of him by the sleeve, knowing that storming out would not be the answer. It would only make things seem more suspicious. Robb looked down to her and she glowered up to him. He knew that she believed the rumours. She was insecure over everything when it came to Isabelle.

"And what does Lord Walder want as proof that my husband as no intention to cast me out once this war has finished. Does he wish for the girl's corpse?"

Lothar chuckled darkly and shook his head. "He merely wishes for a stronger alliance between our houses and a meeting with the King in the North at the Twins. He is too delicate to travel."

Robb sunk back down into his seat and leaned back, looking between the two men across from him as Roslin kept her hand on his thigh and he stiffened uncomfortably.

"And if my husband refuses?"

"He can expect his army to be cut short," Lothar responded. "Our father would see to it that another marriage is made between our Houses. Edmure Tully is his preferred choice."

Robb inhaled sharply, wondering how much of a choice he had in these matters. This war had grown too complicated and he detested it. He hated everything that came with it, but he had to win. He had to reconcile his family and bring them back to Winterfell. That was what he was fighting for...well...that was what people had to believe he was fighting for. He looked back to the men and knew that there was no other option but to do as they had asked.

...

Ramsay had stopped at an inn that evening, draining cups of wine as he remained rather pleased with himself. His men had laughed and joked along with him, but it was only when Ramsay spotted the blonde haired woman poking the fire did he make a move. She must have been the inkeeper's daughter or some whore, but Ramsay failed to care. It was her blonde curls which drew him to her.

She made to stand from poking the fire as Ramsay caught her by the waist, her forehead bumping against his chin. She was just the perfect height too.

"I apologise, m'lord," she spoke. "I did not see you there."

"No," Ramsay said, shifting his hips against hers and she gasped audibly, looking around for her father who was not in sight. "But I saw you."

"M'lord, please, my father will-"

"-I don't give a fuck where your father is," Ramsay snarled down to her, moving his hands to grope her backside and push her against his hardening crotch. She kept still, fear racing through her as Ramsay moved to pull his trusted knife from his sheath. "Now, do you think that you can be a good girl and keep your mouth closed? It would be a shame to slice your pretty little throat."

The girl gulped loudly, knowing that she had no other option but to nod her agreement with the man in front of her. Ramsay bent down to her ear, his lips trailing down her neck as his nose inhaled the scent of her hair. It smelt nothing like Eleanor's did, but he suspected she didn't have the fine lotions Eleanor had to scent her hair with.

"Now," Ramsay whispered, "I don't care what your name is and I don't care about you. For tonight, you're going to be called Eleanor."

The girl seemed confused as Ramsay stood tall and allowed the blade to tilt the girl's chin to look up at him. The fear in her eyes was evident as Ramsay bent down to her height, the shimmering blade a contrast against her pale white skin.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"So what is your name?" Ramsay tried again and the girl gulped.

"Eleanor," she whispered.

Nodding, Ramsay took her by the hand and led her up to his room. She would do for this night. She was a poor substitute for Eleanor, but she was a substitute nonetheless, until he had the real woman in front of him. Only then would he relish having her back with him.

...

A/N: So thank you very much to Mikki19, xxxRena, CLTex and Isnotamusedsir for reviewing the previous chapter. I hope you will let me know what you think!


	27. Chapter 27

"You need to think about this, Isabelle," Talia urged her friend as Isabelle quickly stripped out of her gown, shedding it on the floor before moving to the small wardrobe. She grabbed her red gown which was comfortable for riding before she slipped it over her head. She pulled it over her arms as Talia remained still on the side of her bed.

"I am thinking," Isabelle promised her friend. "I need to stop Ramsay. How could he make up such a lie like this? I had left him...Robb has nothing to do with me or him."

"Ramsay is a sick man," Talia responded. "He will do what he can to get you back because he thinks that you are his possession."

"I am no possession, not even Robb Stark classed me as his possession." Isabelle snarled back. "I should have buried that knife in his skull."

"You did not know that he was capable of this."

"I should have," Isabelle snapped back. "I should have known that Ramsay would not rest. He will need to bury me himself to make sure I am dead."

"But rushing into this is dangerous," Talia replied. "You know that, Isabelle. If men were to catch you then they would send you back to Ramsay."

"So I am to allow Robb's death?" Isabelle responded, shaking her head as she grabbed her cloak from her bedpost. She shrugged it over her shoulders and tied it over her chest, knowing full well that her husband would be closer to Robb than she was at that moment in time. "I cannot do that. Robb does not deserve this."

"So you would go back to him?" Talia checked and Isabelle closed her eyes before slipping her boots onto her feet, sitting on the edge of her bed. She tugged them over her feet as Talia knelt before Isabelle, stopping her from moving any further. "Isabelle, you cannot go back to him. It will never end...none of it will ever end..."

"If I can find Ramsay then I will beg him not to do this...I know that the chances of me sneaking through Robb's camp and allowing Roslin to let me live are slim... impossible, in fact."

"Do you think that?" Talia snapped. "Ramsay will not stop if you run back to him and promise to be dutiful again. You have done that before and he was horrible, but if you do it again then he won't be merciful. He would still have Robb Stark murdered and you sent to the Dreadfort. He would ruin you, Isabelle."

"He's already ruined me," Isabelle complained. "If he has gone to Harrenhal then he is only a day's ride ahead of me. I need you to go to Riverrun, Talia."

"What?" Talia seemed shocked and Isabelle stood up, offering the younger girl her hand to help her stand on her feet. "You want me to go to Riverrun?"

"If I go then the men will know me. It is as you said," Isabelle responded. "Robb Stark knows who you are and he will trust you. I need to slow Ramsay down from getting to Robb and this is the only way. I have thought on it and I cannot go into his encampment. I have escaped Ramsay once...I can do it again...if Robb discovers his treason then he would have a valid reason to have Ramsay's head on a spike."

"Going back to Ramsay is foolish!" Talia snapped at her. "Let me ride to Riverrun, yes, but do not go back to him. Wait here and I shall tell Robb."

"There is not enough time," Isabelle shook her head at her friend. "I can slow Ramsay down by a day and you can tell Robb what he intends to do. Robb can flee and stop this."

"And you will reveal yourself as being alive. What is there to stop the Freys from believing Ramsay's lie then?" Talia asked and Isabelle sighed, well aware that the girl had a point. There was no way out of this. She took a few moments to remain silent before Talia took her by her shoulders, holding them tightly.

"I know that you want to save Robb, and I know that you care about him more than anything," Talia promised Isabelle. "Rushing back to Ramsay and begging him to stop will not squash his lies. The Freys will believe the lie and they would still turn against the King in the North. If people knew that you were still alive then they would think that Robb was the one who helped you go into hiding to keep you safe until the end of the war. You need to come with me and keep hidden...I shall go into the camp, but you cannot go back to Ramsay."

Isabelle remained silent before Talia wrapped her arms around the elder girl. For once Talia felt like the adult in their relationship. She felt as though she was the one keeping Isabelle grounded. Someone had to keep the girl grounded when she was not taking her time to think.

"We need to get to Robb," Isabelle whispered lowly. "We have to save him."

"And we will," Talia assured her. "We will do what we can."

...

"You overstepped your position!" Roose Bolton snapped at his son as soon as Ramsay had arrived at Harrenhal with a gleeful expression on his face. That did not even change when Roose waved the letter he had received earlier in Ramsay's face. "You rode to King's Landing without my permission and came up with this ridiculous plot!"

"A plot which has been agreed to by the Lannisters and the Freys," Ramsay snapped back in annoyance. "With your backing then there should be no problem in defeating Robb Stark once for all. Don't tell me that you truly believe in the King in the North's cause?"

"I want nothing more than to return to the Dreadfort," Roose hissed before grinding his teeth together. He took a few seconds to keep quiet before sinking down into his seat. He rested his hand on his forehead before tossing the letter to the side. "And you plotted all of this because of your stupid wife. Perhaps if you could have kept control of her then you would not be in this mess!"

"What mess?" Ramsay checked with a shrug of his shoulders. "Eleanor loves Robb Stark. I have no doubt that she will give herself up when he is caught."

"You're a fool," Roose snapped. "If this plan does not work-"

"-Robb Stark's forces are made of men from House Frey. As soon as they turn against him then they have nothing. The Karstarks left when Robb Stark cut off Lord Karstark's head the other day. His forces will disappear soon enough."

Roose knew that his son spoke some sense. The fact of the matter was that the King in the North was losing men quicker than he was getting to King's Landing. The chances of him succeeding without the remaining bannermen and House Frey was slim.

"You were still in no position to go to Lord Tywin Lannister," Roose finally let out a loud huff. "And if your plot does bring your wife back then you will keep control of her next time. I have grown tired of her disobedience."

Ramsay's smirk grew wider with that piece of information. He would make Eleanor obey him and he would love every single minute of it. Eleanor? Not so much. He had no intention of letting her get away so easily again. In fact, he had no intention of letting her get away at all.

"Eleanor won't be running away again," Ramsay promised his father. "I shall see to that."

"Good," Roose replied. "Because you are soon to be Lord of Bardtower now that her parents have died. You shall inherit my lands and her lands. You need to learn how not to overstep your position and keep people happy."

"That does not interest me-"

"-It should and it will," Roose warned his son, staring dangerously at him. "Your wife may be many things, but she is a proper little lady. Any scars she receives shall be kept hidden from sight and you shall dote upon her in public to dispel all of these foul rumours which surround you. You will learn how to be a lord and she shall sit quietly and prettily on your arm. Is that understood?"

Ramsay snorted before shrugging, knowing that it would be easier to agree with his father than to ignore him on the matter. But Ramsay suspected that he would soon have power over the North if he had his way. It would soon be ripe for the taking, and Ramsay loved taking things which did not belong to him.

...

Robb had demanded that the congregation take a break for a few moments and he had wandered off, Roslin asking him if he was feeling well. He nodded back to her and left the congregation, manoeuvring into the forest.

Catelyn had seen her son and chosen to follow him, finally catching up with him and resting her hand on his shoulder lightly. He turned back to look at his mother and she forced a smile onto her face.

"I may be your prisoner, but I am still your mother and I can see that something troubles you," Catelyn whispered and Robb sighed, knowing that he could not be angry with his mother for much longer. He loved her beyond belief and to know that she had betrayed him annoyed him.

"The Karstarks left me because I thought that I had done the right thing," Robb commented. "I now have to go attend a wedding when I should be back on the march to King's Landing. I do not know what more I can do, but I know that I cannot win this war without Walder Frey."

Catelyn sighed lightly and shook her head back and forth; "I know that this is difficult for you, Robb. I can see that. I can also hear the men whisper of this supposed plan which you have hatched."

"There is no plan," Robb promised his mother. "I helped Isabelle to escape, but not once did I promise to run away with her once this war had finished. I know that I have responsibilities here, regardless of how much I long to forget them."

Catelyn kissed him gently on the cheek, looking him in the eye for a few moments before she turned her head over the shoulder. She looked back over to the road where the men were. She knew that rumours were turning, but she did not know where they came from. She suspected the Freys had something to do with this.

"Confirm the alliance with House Frey and all shall be well," Catelyn assured her son. "Isabelle and you shall both move on. She has escaped her husband and that is the main thing, is it not, Robb?"

Forcing a nod, Robb agreed. "But I fear he will find her. He thinks that she is not dead and the bastard is sadistic enough to carry on until he finds her. I only fear what he would do...what she..."

Catelyn could see that this was all becoming too much for her son. She could see him gasping for breath as wordless thoughts consumed him. She moved to wrap her arms around him, cradling her to him as Robb sobbed away from prying eyes, his head on his mother's shoulder. She had not held him like this since news of his father's death. She ran her hands through his auburn locks, trying to soothe him from the hysterics which took hold of him.

"I know how this hurts you," she promised him. "I know, Robb...I know..."

"I miss her," Robb continued. "I love her so much..."

Catelyn kept quiet, silently promising to be there for her son for as long as possible. She would be sure that nothing would happen to him so long as she was around.


	28. Chapter 28

Ramsay peered up to the Twins, a smile of glee on his face as he considered what awaited there for him. Robb Stark had arrived earlier in the day and now Ramsay had followed. The following day the wedding of Edmure Tully and some Frey girl was destined to take place. Roose Bolton rode next to his bastard, his eyes set on Ramsay. His bastard had dragged him into his plot, but Roose fought for the winning side, and Robb Stark was not winning. The arrangement was to keep him alive and send him to Tywin Lannister.

He would have the pleasure of taking his head. Ramsay had to admit that he would have loved that pleasure. Hearing Robb Stark scream would be in the midst of his memory.

Climbing down from his horse once they entered the courtyard, Ramsay slipped his riding gloves from his fingers and looked around the Twins.

"My Lords," Roslin Frey had been the one who had been sent to meet the guests for the wedding. She had to admit that she had been shocked that so many people deemed it acceptable to turn up to another wedding so soon after her own. "We welcome you to the Twins."

"Thank you, my Queen," Roose answered and Ramsay looked around for a few moments.

"And where is the King in the North?" he decided to ask and Roslin eyed him with suspicion. She didn't trust Ramsay Snow. She never had done and she never would do. The boy seemed to know too much without anyone telling him anything. It made her suspicious of him, and she only wondered how Isabelle had felt being married to him.

She straightened out her fine red gown and placed a smile on her face; "My husband has gone riding."

"Alone?" Ramsay checked.

"He often does," Roslin lied. "He likes the solace which comes with riding."

"Hmm," Ramsay merely grunted back and Roose looked to his bastard, wondering what he was thinking about. Unfortunately Ramsay was a scheming individual who believed that everyone else in the world was also just as scheming as he. It was not true, nor would it ever be.

"There are maids just through the doorway who shall show you to your rooms," Roslin motioned to the door and Roose nodded back to her, inclining his head politely before walking away with Ramsay in tow.

"What was all of that about?" Roose hissed and Ramsay nonchalantly shrugged.

"Nothing," he spoke. "The King in the North has merely gone riding alone. The most important man in the North has gone un-chaperoned into the woods where anyone could wait to kill him silently."

"No," Roose snapped at Ramsay. "You shall not follow-"

"-I have no intention of following him and killing him myself," Ramsay promised his father. "I merely intend to find out what it is our beloved King has done with his time."

...

Isabelle could scarcely contain herself as she waited in the clearing in the forest. Everything about trees and dirt on the ground scared her. It reminded her of what Ramsay would do to the women who disobeyed him; how he would chase them through the woods, but he would never let them get away. No one ever got away. She suspected he would chase her through them if he found her. He wouldn't kill her, of course. He would flay her into submission and threaten to feed her to his bitches.

And she would probably whimper on the floor and beg him to spare her life.

She had sent Talia into the Twins whilst she stayed out of the way. The girl had been gone a long time and Isabelle worried that she would not come back. It was only when she heard the hitting of horse hooves did she move out from the tree she hid behind into the clearing. Talia rode up to her, but there was a second rider. She had not expected him to come, but she should have known better.

Robb had barely allowed his horse to stop trotting as he jumped down from it and Isabelle couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. She moved with haste whilst Talia continued to sit atop of her horse, watching as the young couple closed the distance and their arms were instantly around each other.

"Robb, I-"

Robb silenced her, his lips crashing down onto hers. One of his hands moved to the small of her back whilst the other knotted in her hair. He held her as close to him as possible, almost choking the life out of her as he continued to move his mouth over hers like he had been starved for years on end. Moaning, Isabelle finally broke their lips and took Robb's bearded face into her fingers, bending in his hold slightly as she examined him.

"I have missed you," Robb whispered, his forehead against hers as she felt the hilt of his large sword dig into her stomach. She ignored it as Robb bent down to kiss her chastely again. "I have missed you more than you can imagine."

"I doubt it," Isabelle whispered back to him. "But I have to talk with you."

"Your friend explained to me," Robb replied back to Isabelle and she knew that the dilemma was about to form. "She told me of how House Frey and Bolton intend to turn against me and hand me over to the Lannisters."

"I rode as fast as possible," Isabelle promised him. "I spent every day worrying that I would be too late...worrying that I wouldn't make it to you..."

"You have done," Robb spoke lowly. "A wedding is about to take place between my uncle and Roslin's cousin. But they surely cannot intend to turn against me there. It is a wedding."

"You know the tales of Lord Walder," Isabelle scoffed. "And my husband is there, is he not? I doubt he would take grievance with shedding blood at a wedding. You need to run away. You need to gather up your men who are not loyal to House Frey and Bolton and you need to take them far from here."

Robb slowly shook his head at her, his teeth grinding together and his eyes remaining stern. Isabelle slipped her hands over his shoulders and underneath the fur cloak which covered his armour covered body. He kept his hands lightly on her waist before sighing lowly.

"There is no way," he whispered to her. "I am outnumbered and I have lost half of my forces due to Lord Karstark's betrayal. My men would never make it out alive. One would catch wind of it and would alert Lord Walder and the slaughter would begin early."

"You need to try," Isabelle begged him. "You can send one man to spread the word and they can sneak out in the dead of night. You need to listen to me, Robb. You need to do this."

"And I believe you," Robb promised her. "I just worry what will happen to the men."

"But you know that if you keep them here then they will be massacred, regardless. It is better to try and escape than to sit idle and fret. And if you cannot continue with this war then you will have saved lives...you will have saved your life," Isabelle balled her hand into a fist and rested it against his chest as she spoke, her eyes set on the armour he wore in front of her eyes. "I know that you fight this war to bring your sister's home and have vengeance, but...you cannot do that if you are dead."

Robb sighed lowly, wondering what she wanted him to do. Robb couldn't help but think that there was no way out of the mess which he was currently in. What way was there? He had yet to think of one, and he could not see one appearing in the future. But Isabelle spoke sense. If he had any hope of continuing with his war then he needed men, regardless of how few he had. Perhaps he could ask Stannis Baratheon for aid? Being King did not bother Robb Stark and Stannis had men.

"Alright," Robb agreed. "I just cannot believe what Lord Walder intends to do; all because of Ramsay's lies."

"And Roslin?" Isabelle wondered in a soft whisper. "Would she stay here or go with you? She is your wife."

"As she so often reminds me," Robb complained and nuzzled into Isabelle's soft hair, his chin on the top of her head. She pressed her cheek against the crook of his neck, holding him tightly in her hands.

"You need to let them see that they had been wrong." Isabelle spoke lowly. "In time they will realise their decision was a mistake...when I am no long here...when Ramsay cannot find me and no one can."

"But you could be with me if I left." Robb spoke. "Do you honestly think that I would want the support of House Frey after learning about their betrayal now? I could never trust them again, even if the lies were proven to be just that."

Isabelle suspected that he had a point; "But it would still be dangerous for you and for me. I just had to come here to warn you. I couldn't live with myself if I had simply stayed in King's Landing and done nothing to help save you from Ramsay and his psychotic tendencies."

"And would it be so bad if I took you with me?" Robb asked her. "House Bolton would already have declared war against me...turned against me...having you would not matter then. I would be in open rebellion and I would keep you safe. I would keep you by my side and Ramsay would never touch you again."

The option sounded lovely to Isabelle. It sounded like everything that Isabelle wanted, but she did not want to be the one to make matters worse. Ramsay would actively come after her if she went to Robb Stark. There was too much at risk for Isabelle's liking.

"No," she responded. "It would be too dangerous, Robb."

Shaking his head, Robb grasped her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. "He knows that you are alive."

"I know that," Isabelle replied, "but we cannot actively encourage him to come after you."

"He would do that regardless of whether you were with me or not," Robb snapped at her, trying to convince her that he was speaking sense. "Come with me away from here. People already believe the rumours so what does it matter if they come true?"

"But you are still married!" Isabelle protested. "I cannot do it, Robb. I am who Ramsay wants. If I was with you...he could kill you too...and I can't watch that happen...not again...he has killed too many...but not you..."

Robb heard Isabelle as she began to sob, the noise low and guttural as she pressed her face into his neck and failed to contain the sobs which escaped her. Robb patted her back soothingly as Talia remained quiet, intending not to involve herself in their conversation.

"I would not let him anywhere near you," Robb spoke, his voice harsh yet honest. "He will not lay another finger on you."

...

Ramsay Snow was no idiot. He could sense that something was off. He had been stood on the battlements which overlooked the Twins for hours now, waiting to see Robb Stark return from his impromptu ride in the woods nearby. He finally saw him return, his hair dishevelled and a solemn look on his face. It was only when Ramsay wandered back down the corridor did he spot his father.

"I have been looking everywhere for you," Roose complained to Ramsay. "I have some news which you may find interesting."

"And what is that?"

"A woman travelled to the Twins and demanded to speak with Robb Stark personally. Her hair was not blonde, but brown so do not get your hopes up," Roose informed his son and Ramsay shook his head, his teeth showing through as he did so.

"Allow me to guess; she was of slim build and rather short. She sounded as though she held no authority, but she was persistent?" Ramsay said and Roose's brows furrowed as Ramsay clapped his hands together in glee. "Her maid," he added on. "The girl she saved from me one night. Eleanor is not stupid enough to have come here herself, but she is stupid enough to send her maid."

"And how does her maid know of your plot? Why else would she be here and so close to you?" Roose wondered and Ramsay nonchalantly shrugged. That did not matter to him. He was willing to bet that it was Eleanor's maid. His determination knew no bounds. The girl had to be her.

"You are becoming obsessive," Roose warned Ramsay. "You cannot link every coincidence back to Eleanor. She consumes your every thought and it is not healthy."

"She is my wife," Ramsay lowly growled. "She has the honour of consuming my every thought and I will bring her back right now."

...

Isabelle and Talia remained in the woods on the outskirts of the Twins. They had tied their horses to a tree and had settled down in the darkness, choosing not to light a fire. They had decided that they would travel at first light back to King's Landing. Isabelle had told Robb that she could not be with him and it had destroyed both of them. Talia could scarcely remember how long Robb had been with Isabelle, cradling her against him and pressing soft kisses to any area of exposed skin.

The pair of them huddled together against a tree, Talia resting her head on Isabelle's shoulder as they slowly drifted to sleep. It was only the barking of dogs which woke them from their slumber. Isabelle quickly nudged Talia as the barking seemed to grow louder with each passing moment.

"Talia," she hissed, aiding the girl to her feet. "Do you hear that?"

"Dogs?" Talia wondered. "What do you think they are searching for?"

"It doesn't matter," Isabelle spoke back. "It can mean nothing good. We need to go now."

Talia nodded and the two of them scrambled about in the dark, trying to search for the ropes to the horses. Isabelle helped Talia onto the creature before she climbed onto her own horse. The two girls begin to ride through the forest, the dark of the night not aiding them in the slightest.

"Whatever happens," Isabelle gasped for breath as she shouted over to Talia, "you keep riding and find help. Do you understand me? You don't stop riding!"

Nodding, Talia continued riding and Isabelle allowed her to ride in front for a few miles. It was only when the sound of barks grew louder did Isabelle begin to fear that something might happen. She looked behind her, the sight of torches in the distance causing her pulse to race and her mouth to dry up.

"Oh, Eleanor!"

Isabelle almost stopped dead in her tracks as she heard the voice. That voice which caused her nightmares beyond belief. The voice which plagued her more than she could ever admit. She did slow, almost losing sight of Talia and she wondered how he had found her.

"Why don't you stop this race? The hounds have your scent. There is nowhere for you to go...stop now and I may even let your beloved Robb Stark live. He's here, you know...begging for me to stop..."

Did he have Robb? Isabelle couldn't see into the distance, but she knew that she had slowed her horse down and she was looking around with haste. She only noted one torch in the distance as his horse quickly galloped towards her, only slowing once he saw her. She was sat atop of her creature as his men circled around her, the hounds still barking as they did their best to restrain them.

The smug look on Ramsay's face as he jumped down from Blood was enough to make Isabelle realise that he had lied. He did not have Robb, nor would he ever have Robb. She began her feeble attempt to escape, her horse running straight into another stationary horse and spooking. She tumbled down its back, falling into the mud on her behind. Moving to her knees, she began to attempt to crawl away and under the horses around her, failing miserably as she felt his strong arms take her by the waist.

"No!" she cried out loud as he kept her arms pinned by her sides, one of his hands moving to grab hold of her chin to force her to look at him and stop squirming. "No! Let me go!"

"Now is that anyway to greet your husband?" Ramsay wondered from her, his eyes glimmering with glee as he kept her in his arms tightly. "I have been worried, Eleanor. You stabbed me and ran away. I thought that our relationship was stronger than that?"

"No...let me go...get off of me...now..." she demanded him and Ramsay whirled her in his hold and slapped her across the face forcefully. She remained balance as he took hold of her upper arms and gripped them with enough force to leave bruises.

"You stupid whore," he snarled. "Did you truly believe that I had your precious Robb Stark? You really are a gullible fool."

"He knows," Isabelle warned him, the taste of blood invading her mouth. "He knows what you intend to do and he will escape."

"Will he?" Ramsay asked. "You have a lot of misguided faith in him, love. He is going nowhere. Although I do wonder how you found out about the plan."

"There are moles everywhere in King's Landing," Isabelle remained cryptic as Ramsay ran the back of his hand down her cheek. She grabbed his wrist to shove him away and he chuckled.

"Still have that temper on you," he nodded to her. "You shouldn't have come here, Eleanor. Sending your little maid to talk to Robb Stark was foolish."

"People do foolish things when they love someone. That's something you wouldn't know," Isabelle defiantly said and she refused to be pushed around by Ramsay. But he had other ideas. He slapped her once more; this time there was enough force behind the motion to see her crumble to the ground. His boot made contact with her stomach and she inhaled sharply before he kicked her again and she screamed at the pain.

It didn't take long before Ramsay was straddling her, his hands tugging at the bottom of her skirts. He failed to care whether or not his men were watching him. They were loyal to him and knew when to turn away. Isabelle fought against him, kneeing him in the crotch to give her enough time to roll from underneath him. Ramsay acted quicker, rolling her back over and laying his weight fully on top of her, catching her thumping wrists into his large hands.

"You will learn, Eleanor," he promised her harshly. "I will teach you how to be obedient until all thoughts of escape leave you. I will break you down and I will do whatever it takes. You have gone too far this time and I am not willing to forget it."

"Go to Hell!" Isabelle spat in his face and Ramsay slapped her once more before flipping her onto her stomach and working at her skirts again. He bent down to whisper in her ear as she clawed at the ground, longing for it to end. Ramsay slowly moved his hands down her arms, entwining his fingers into hers once he had pooled her dress around her waist. His large fingers engulfed hers as Isabelle pressed her cheek to the floor and shuddered as she felt him kiss the side of her neck, grinning against her skin as he inhaled the familiar scent of her.

"There is only one hell, darling," he promised her, voice low and taunting "and it is about to become your life."

...

A/N: Thanks to CLTex for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	29. Chapter 29

"What do you intend to do now?" Isabelle hissed at Ramsay as she pushed herself to her feet and he finished lacing his breeches up. She pulled her skirts back down from her waist to see them pool on the floor. She stumbled as she found her footing, almost tripping whilst Ramsay watched her with a look of confusion on his face.

Was this how he thought he would feel? He wanted nothing more than to show her how to behave. He wanted to make her his perfect submissive wife, but he could see that it was going to take a lot of work. He would take pleasure in having her turn into the woman he initially wanted. But there was the sight of her defiance. He couldn't help but find it a rather attractive trait at this moment in time. There was a new found spark in her; a spark which showed that she failed to care if she defied him.

Then again, his wife always had been a challenge.

"You could send me back to the Dreadfort, couldn't you? I suspect you would like that though; the thought of flaying your own wife back into submission? Or set the hounds on me? That was another one of your personal favourites, wasn't it?"

"And give them the pleasure of killing you?" Ramsay smirked as he moved back to her, his hand resting on top of her shoulder. "No, my love, you are my wife. I have no intention of sending you into the forest. I reserve that privilege for the whores I grow bored of."

"So the dungeon it is," Isabelle said, her voice lame with no hint of emotion. Ramsay moved his hand down her arm and to her side, catching her around the waist and pressing her body to his tightly. Isabelle tried to push against his chest to no prevail. "If you are trying to scare me then it won't work. I've lived most of my life being scared of you and I won't-"

"-You stupid bitch," Ramsay interrupted her, his other arm then wrapping around her waist as he bent down to rest his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply. "You will be submissive, Eleanor. You will sit next to me at feasts and smile at my every word. You will dangle off my arm and bear my children. You will do that and you will not complain of it."

Isabelle kept still as Ramsay's sweating forehead moved against hers and his lips whispered into her ear, his breath hot and causing her to squirm. His hands moved down to the small of her back, his fingers dancing along her spine as he did so. She remained mute as Ramsay kissed the side of her neck and then took a deep breath.

"You are my wife," Ramsay spoke lowly. "My every thought has been consumed by you since you left...how it would feel to be inside you...how I wanted nothing more than to see you on your knees...begging me for forgiveness for your betrayal...but most of all, I wanted you. I wanted you back and nothing more."

"Why?" Isabelle managed to ask, her voice croaking.

She could scarcely understand what it was he truly wanted from her. She could think of nothing she had done but anger him. There had been a time when doted upon him, begged from him to be hers and stop with all the madness that surrounded him. But that had been a long time ago, before he turned against her and she lost their child.

"Because you are mine," Ramsay whispered to her, his hands clutching her cheeks. She took a few seconds before her eyes opened wide and Ramsay pressed a wet kiss to her mouth. He seemed to have forgotten the men who surrounded them; their backs turned to the married couple in between the trees in the darkness. "You are mine, Eleanor, and no one takes you from me."

"But you don't even love me!" Isabelle snapped at him and she felt the men stare at her as she snapped at Ramsay and finally mustered enough strength to push him from her. "You have never loved me and you take pleasure in abusing me. Why do you think I tried to escape? I don't want to spend the rest of my life living in fear of you...and I try to act brave...but being with you...knowing what you are capable of has ruined me, Ramsay. I can't do it anymore...please don't make me...find someone else...please..."

Ramsay remained stoic during her little speech, his features neutral as he eyed his wife. She stood across from him, her hands clasped into her muddied skirts as she continued to stare at Ramsay, wondering what he would do now. She had never meant to spill her heart out to him. That had never been her intention, but she had done it.

It was then when Ramsay slowly took his steps closer to her, his eyes set completely on her as he ran a hand over his stubble covered chin and finally lifted a finger to her chin, making her like him in the eye.

"Very moving," Ramsay drawled. "Unfortunately it had little effect on me."

It was then when Ramsay moved with haste, grabbing Isabelle by the waist and tossing her over his shoulder. She thumped at his back as he walked towards a horse.

"My men will escort you back to the Dreadfort whilst I deal with Robb Stark. Perhaps we shall travel to King's Landing to see his rotting head on a spike one day?" Ramsay suggested to her and he tossed her over the horse.

Isabelle acted quickly, her foot instantly moving out to kick Ramsay in the chest, pushing him back into the man who was to sit on the horse with Isabelle. She moved in an unladylike fashion to sit atop of the creature, pulling at the reins as Ramsay struggled to move from the floor.

"Eleanor!" he roared her name as she allowed the horse to gallop into the darkness. "Get after her!"

Isabelle wondered how long she could keep riding for before they caught up with her. She was well aware that Ramsay's stead, Blood, was faster than many. Isabelle stood slightly on the creature, urging for it to faster as the sound of yells hit from behind her.

"Come on, sweetling," she urged the creature before noting torches in the distance. She had no idea which direction she was heading in, and she almost wondered whether or not the torches could be enemies or friends to her. Before she knew it she was in their direction and she would have known the man atop of the white horse anywhere, even from quite a distance.

"Robb!" Isabelle yelled his name and she saw that he was riding with a guard of ten men and his mother. "Robb! Please!"

Robb Stark looked up from the ground to the side, narrowing his eyes into the darkness. He had been certain that he had heard her voice. Before he knew it she was there, riding towards him and he glanced across to the woman who had come back to the Twins to warn him that Isabelle had gone missing.

"Isabelle," he whispered her name as she finally came into sight and a sigh of relief escaped Robb as he ordered his men to move on their horses and let her thought to him. "What are you doing? I was coming to look for you?"

"Ramsay is coming after me," Isabelle spoke, almost out of breath. "We need to go, Robb. He'll kill you if he finds you."

Nodding, Robb ordered his men to ride hard and fast. Isabelle looked over to the other woman riding besides Catelyn, noting that it was Talia. A sigh of relief escaped Isabelle at the sight of her as the horses galloped and Robb kept his eyes on Isabelle, making sure she did not fall from her creature. Even if she did, he would take hold of her again. He would not let Ramsay have her for his own again.

...

Ramsay Snow was not a patient man. He was not a man who enjoyed chasing and gaining nothing at the end of the hunt. That would not do for him. But that was what happened. He failed to find Isabelle and so he had no other option but to return to the Twins empty handed. It was only on the way back to the Twins when he noticed that the entirety of Robb Stark's loyal northmen had left the grounds, not a trace of them left.

Ramsay almost felt like flaying something then. He sat on top of Blood and looked around before into the night sky, swearing by the Gods that he would find Isabelle again, and the next time he would have no mercy on her.

...

The King in the North had enough men to keep him guarded for a while. They had ridden until nearly the sun rose over the trees. Robb had informed her that he had ordered his men to wait at The Neck for him and he would decide their next plan of attack. He had many men left, thankfully Lord Walder and Lord Bolton had not heard of his plan to escape the Twins. Robb suspected they would not be happy with him if they knew.

An encampment had been set up in no time, men greeting Robb with enthusiasm as he walked back through their camp. He nodded at them and thanked them for their support as Isabelle walked beside Talia and behind Catelyn. Isabelle continued to stare at him, unable to believe how much of a natural born leader he was. He may be a leader, but he had too few men to lead in an attack South against the Lannisters.

It didn't take long before they came to Robb's tent which had already been set up. He walked in, his mother following him and urging Isabelle to do the same with Talia.

"You have seen your men, I trust," Catelyn drawled as Robb resisted the urge to hold Isabelle in his mother's presence. "They still see you as their leader, but they are now far North. They will want to return home soon enough. We have too few men without the Karstarks, Freys and Boltons."

"They betrayed me," Robb said through gritted teeth. "I will find a way to bring Arya and Sansa home without them."

"They will be sending an army North to root you out as we speak. You are no match for their forces, Robb."

"And what would you have me do?" Robb wondered from his mother and Catelyn turned to glower at Isabelle. The girl bowed her head and ran a hand down her arm, knowing what Lady Stark thought of her. Robb also noted his mother's glare and he shook his head. "This is Ramsay Bolton's fault-"

"-He did this because his wife ran away from her duties towards him."

"My duties?" Isabelle hissed. "Was my duty to sit by and watch him flay people alive? Watch him rape innocent women? I never asked for this."

"My son's war has been cost because of you running from Ramsay Snow. His plot was set because he wanted you back-"

"-Enough!" Robb bellowed; tiring of listening to his mother.

But Isabelle knew that he was right. She had caused this. She had been the one to cause Ramsay's schemes. She had been foolish enough to think that she could flee with no consequences. But Ramsay had hurt her the only way he know how; through Robb.

"Mother, please leave us be," Robb ordered. "Take Isabelle's friend to a tent of her own too."

"Robb-"

"-Now," Robb commanded, knowing that his mother was about to plead with him. She simply sighed and nodded, Talia dutifully following her from the tent.

Robb was quick to act then as realisation dawned on Isabelle. She stumbled to sit down on the edge of Robb's bed of furs, the King in the North by her side with his hand on her back as he held one of her hands inside of his.

"Your mother is right. Ramsay did this because of me. I cost you this war," Isabelle said, guilt suddenly washing over her as Robb moved his hand to her cheek, forcing her to look at him as he shook his head. "I was the one-"

"-You place too much weight on your shoulders," Robb promised her. "You did not cost me the war. The war is not over."

"Your mother is right though. You have too few men-"

"-I have a potential ally once I write to him," Robb said and Isabelle's brows furrowed. "Stannis Baratheon is North. He is on the lookout for more men to join his cause. I will agree to help him and in return renounce my claim as King in the North. I never wanted a title other than Lord of Winterfell."

"And do you think that he will agree to your terms?" Isabelle worried and Robb ran his fingertips down her neck, noting the dirt which sat on her skin and the cuts on her body. She winced as she bent forwards, her own hands slipping from his to hold her stomach.

"I can only write to him and plead," Robb responded. "What did he do to you, Isabelle?"

"Nothing which I cannot handle," Isabelle promised him. "Ramsay will not give up now. I have escaped him twice."

"And he will not get you back," Robb promised, standing up and moving to take hold of a jug of water and a cloth. He sat back down by her and tended to the dried blood on her skin and the dirt which stuck to her neck. "I left Roslin at the Twins."

"Should you have?"

"She would have tried to talk me out of leaving. It was too dangerous to speak with her. I managed to bring Theon with me. I had thought of leaving him behind...but I asked Talisa to see to him and make sure that he is kept alive. She is a strong woman and spirited. I have no doubt she will look after him through his recovery."

"You are allowing him to recover?"

"Killing him has proven to be much more difficult than I had planned," Robb mumbled back and he noted Isabelle wince again at her stomach. "Should I bring Talisa to tend to your bruise?"

"No," Isabelle shook her head. "I doubt it is too bad. It shall heal. I am more concerned about people believing Ramsay's lies to become true if they find me here."

"Let them," Robb said, low and guttural. "I fail to care, Isabelle. We shall live in sin if we have to, but I am not letting you go out there on your own again. I want you to stay here and I want you to stay with me."

Isabelle bowed her head, wondering what more harm she could do if she stayed with Robb. She was well aware that if she went out to Westeros that Ramsay would find her. Of course, the first place he would look for her would be at Robb Stark's camp; and at that moment in time he could possibly beat Robb without difficulty.

"As your King, I will order you to remain here," Robb warned her, although there was a slight teasing edge to his voice and a quirk of his lips. Isabelle couldn't help but allow her own lip to curl as Robb ran the cold cloth down her warm cheeks and bent in to kiss her sweetly on the lips, the motion tender and warm.

"I just worry," Isabelle whispered once Robb had pulled back from her and moved his free hand to her hair, stroking it down her back. "I worry that Ramsay will come here and look for you...he would kill you-"

"-The chances of any army marching North to fight me is slim," Robb promised Isabelle. "Tywin Lannister will want to rethink his options. He knows that I intend to go South for my sisters...he will be patient until I move. He could slaughter me right here and now, but he would need Lannister men to march up North and join House Frey and House Bolton. It gives me time to write to Stannis and plead with him."

Isabelle didn't know how she felt about Robb asking Stannis for help, but she suspected he would do anything to keep himself safe and bring his sister's home.

"And if your husband even thinks of coming for you then I promise you I shall ram a sword through his belly," Robb said, his voice deadly serious as he kissed her on the top of her head and she leaned into his hold, wincing as she did so.

"Let me look at your bruise, even if you won't let Talisa."

"No...I'm pretty certain I may be covered in bruises...I don't want you to see," Isabelle faked her excuse.

Shaking his head, Robb reached for the laces to her dress, pulling at them as she remained still. It was only when she shuddered and felt herself inhaling a deep breath did Robb pause to see her eyes scrunched shut, her facial expression unreadable.

"I'm not him," Robb whispered to her. "I have no intention to hurt you. You know that. I want to do the exact opposite and make sure you are well."

Taking a deep breath, Isabelle nodded and she slowly moved her gown from her body to leave her in her underclothes. Robb handed her a robe from his trunk and she slipped her underclothes from her body and pulled his robe on. She sat back down on the bed, allowing the gown to open at her waist to reveal the purple bruises from where Ramsay had kicked her.

Robb slowly urged her to lay down for him to inspect them better. He could see bruises on her stomach, but the gown also fell to her hips, more bruises staining her legs and Robb feared the worst. Isabelle kept her gaze to the ceiling as Robb's fingers danced across her inner thighs and Isabelle winced.

"Ramsay never has been patient," Isabelle whispered. "He took me as soon as he found me."

Robb closed his eyes and winced at her words, his fingers moving over the gap of the robe to the purple bruise on her stomach. She made a groaning sound as he pushed at the bruise slightly and he looked to her eyes as they watered.

"You should have said something about this during the ride here," he silently grumbled and Isabelle shook her head.

"I was too preoccupied," she mumbled and Robb covered her bare skin back up. He recalled the scars on her back from when Ramsay had punished her for the first time. He could only imagine the horrors she had seen.

"I have nightmares," she suddenly spoke. "There are some nights where I wake screaming and Talia has to hold me to calm me down. I try not to think about Ramsay during the day. I try to continue with things as though he does not exist. But it is at night when it's dark...I fall asleep and I remember what he did...I can't forget it...I've started sleeping with the candles still alight. The darkness scares me and I know that is childish-"

"-No," Robb interrupted to assure her, resting by her side on the bad, his hand holding his head as he lightly draped his arm over her waist above her bruises, his fingers feeling the silk material of his blue dressing robe. "It is anything but childish that you have nightmares. Ramsay Snow has done nothing but made your life a living hell."

Isabelle nodded, trying to blink back tears as she moved both of her hands to grip Robb's arm across her waist. She looked to it, her head turning to the side so that she could look at him again.

"The nightmares stopped before in Winterfell...after you and I had grown close...my every thought wasn't Ramsay...it was you...I want it to go back to then, but so much has happened and I know that I...I will try to forget him..."

"I do not expect you to forget him straight away," Robb whispered to her and rested his head next to hers, his free hand cradling the back of her head as his forehead bumped against hers. "I know that it will take time, but I will stay with you. I won't abandon you, Isabelle. Never again will I abandon you."

Robb kissed the top of her head before she finally pressed her cheek into the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent, the familiar smell coming back to her as she closed her eyes and continued to grip onto him, longing for them never to be separated again.

...

A/N: Thanks to anyone reading and please do review! Updates may be sporadic due to essay writing, working and general life, but I do hope you'll stick with me!


	30. Chapter 30

Robb knew that he shouldn't sleep during the day if he wished to make an appearance to his men in the camp, but his body was tired after finding no sleep the previous night. He had groaned lowly and pushed himself to move from the bed once Isabelle had fallen to sleep, her breathing low and her eyes firmly shut. He slowly draped the furs over her to keep her warm as she wore nothing but his robe.

He took a few moments to bend over, running his hand from to push her hair from her face so that he could kiss her forehead softly. He moved through his tent and collapsed into the chair at his desk, knowing full well that he had to write to Stannis Baratheon for help. Robb would do whatever it now took to defeat the Southern allies and have his sisters brought home. He would also ask for Stannis to see to it that his marriage is annulled, along with Isabelle's. The chances of that happening were slim, but he had to do something.

Roslin Frey may be his wife, but she was a part of House Frey. A House who wanted to do nothing more than have Robb Stark captured and beheaded for his humiliation of his wife. He had never meant to hurt Roslin; truth be known he might still have been with her had Ramsay not concocted his little plan to have Robb murdered and Isabelle crawl back to him.

It was rather unfortunate that he had failed, but Robb now know who his enemies truly were. He wrote the letter with haste before sending it off. He had heard rumours that Stannis was at the Wall. Perhaps Jon Snow would speak with him? Perhaps he could be persuaded to help Robb?

"Robb," Catelyn's voice rang out as soon as she saw her son moving through the encampment after sending his letter. He had it in his mind to go and speak with Talisa. He needed to ask her whether or not she could make moon tea for Isabelle. Ramsay had decided to take his wife in the woods and the last thing Robb wanted was for her to be pregnant with his child.

"I am busy," Robb said, not entirely forgiving his mother for what she had said earlier.

"What I said was out of anger," Catelyn continued to walk by her son's side as he ignored her, his hand on the hilt of his sword and his eyes straight ahead of him. He would not let her worm her way out of this so easily. He did not have it in his heart to let that happen. "The girl has done nothing but ruin you, Robb. She lived in Winterfell as a lie...knowing that she could never be with you, but you two continued to act in secret. Surely you must have known that you would get hurt."

"No," Robb snapped back at his mother. "I fell in love with a serving maid from Winterfell, not Eleanor Snow. When she told me that she was his wife, it did nothing to deter me from her. We cannot help who we fall in love with."

"Yes we can," Catelyn quickly replied. "I grew to love your father. It did not happen instantly. You two...your relationship has grown...but you have a wife."

"A traitor wife," Robb corrected his mother. "I have no intention of returning to Roslin."

"She did no wrong-"

"-Her family did," Robb interrupted.

"You are punishing her for her family's crimes just so you can convince yourself that it is fine to take Isabelle into your bed," Catelyn bluntly spoke. "Do you know what will happen if you keep her here?"

"The same thing that will happen if I were to force her to leave," Robb sniped back.

"You would anger them more and prove the rumours true," Catelyn replied. "You could have the support of House Frey if you were to write to Lord Walder and tell him that the lies are simply that."

"And do you think that I would trust House Frey again?" Robb questioned his mother. "They lost my trust when they planned to have me sent to Tywin Lannister. Both them and Lord Bolton will answer for their crimes."

"With what men?" Catelyn flung her arms out to the side. "You have lost more than half your forces."

"And I can gain more men. I will write to Stannis Baratheon and ask him to join forces with me. He can have the North and I will renounce my newly found title."

Catelyn could scarcely believe what she was hearing from her son. Did he honestly believe that Stannis would join forces with him? Robb had taken away the upper half of his kingdom; a slight Stannis would not forget so easily. And then there was the Red Woman to consider. The Red Woman had always been a sore subject in the North.

"And if he does not agree?"

Robb frowned further. "I will think of that if it comes to that."

"You are playing a dangerous game and it is all because of that girl and her-"

"-Leave Isabelle out of this conversation," Robb demanded his mother. "You know nothing of what Ramsay Snow subjected her to. She has been through enough and I shall not see her suffer again. You cannot speak of her duty when you know nothing of her duty."

Catelyn groaned at her son and shook her head, knowing that she was only trying to help him win this war. She did not wish to see him suffer like she worried he would. That had never been her intention, nor would she ever wish for him to suffer.

"I need to go and speak with Talisa," Robb curtly said. "I trust you are tired. Why not go and rest?"

"I do not-"

"-It was not a suggestion," Robb snapped as he continued on his way to find Talisa, ignoring his mother as he went.

...

"Your plan failed," Roose Bolton spoke in a drawl as Ramsay sat in one of the halls in the Twins, his feet on the table as he looked to the ceiling and did his best to think of what more he could do. "Do you think that Tywin Lannister will be impressed? I would be shocked if he did not demand for your head on a spike as compensation."

"And what good would that bring?" Ramsay snapped, getting the feeling that his father was growing to be far too pleased by his failures. "I will bring his Robb Stark, but it might just be a bit later than he had hoped for. It matters not. The King in the North has a lack of men. We could fight him and kill them all...bring an end to this rebellion and I would take Eleanor back home with me. Perhaps Myranda might fancy a race in the woods? It has been a long time since I have seen her."

Roose shook his head and moved to stand by the fires; leaning against the brickwork at the side of the fireplace as he looked to his son with a cocked brow, wondering what it was that had made Ramsay the way he was. Roose certainly had no part in it. He was a cold and cunning man, but he never found himself to be sadistic like his son.

"I do not know who this Myranda is, but when you have your wife back then the only girl you shall be fucking is her. She is to bear you heir, not be a plaything in the forest." Roose warned Ramsay. "Of course, you need to act quickly if you are to have her back with you. I trust Robb Stark has taken her North with him."

"I have no doubt," Ramsay mumbled and closed his eyes for a few moments, thinking of his sweet Eleanor. "We should gather the men as soon as possible. Lord Walder will want recompense for Robb Stark's treachery. I do not see why he will not give us his men."

"And if Robb Stark is killed in battle? Do you think that is what Tywin Lannister would want?" Roose wondered and Ramsay shrugged.

"I don't care what he wants, but if Robb Stark dies then that is the end to his problems," Ramsay replied. "We destroy him and we take back the North. House Bolton could be the most powerful House above the Neck. I would only ask for one thing in return."

"And what is that?" Roose muttered.

"I want to be your legitimate heir, and not a Snow," Ramsay said and Roose looked at him with wonder. Where had this suddenly come from? "I would be a Bolton and my wife would be a true Bolton too. We are to become Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort; surely it makes sense to legitimise us?"

"And that would be all?" Roose checked.

"And that would be all," Ramsay echoed and Roose gave a contemplative nod.

"I shall think of it. You would have to be sure that your title is maintained," Roose warned him. "I would have no more foul rumours spread of you. Is that understood?"

Ramsay wet his lips and smiled widely; "Perfectly," he promised his father.

...

Isabelle sat up in the bed, drinking the moon tea which Talisa had made her whilst Robb sat at his desk and wrote more letters, pleading for the Karstarks to fight his cause. He even made an attempt to reconcile with the ironborn who remained North.

"Many people gag on the taste of moon tea," Talisa noted as Isabelle downed the liquid in one fluid motion, handing the cup back to Talisa. She pulled her robe tighter around her body as Robb looked at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she would say anything to Talisa. He certainly hoped not.

"On the contrary," Isabelle replied, "it tasted amicable enough, I suspect."

Talisa smiled back to her and ordered her to lie down and peel her robe open so that she could inspect her bruises. Robb did his best to keep his eyes to himself as Isabelle revealed her bare form to Talisa. He couldn't help but take one glance though, his eyes raking over the swell of her breasts down her flat stomach. Talisa was fully examining her for any signs of broken or cracked bone.

"I cannot see anything," she mumbled before helping Isabelle to tie the strings of her robe together. "I think you are merely bruised and nothing more. I would recommend you try to rest for a couple of days. You look rather thin and seem dehydrated. Your friend had the same symptoms too. When was the last time you ate?"

Isabelle's brows furrowed and that was enough to tell Talisa that the girl did not recall.

"As I suspected," she muttered to herself. "No doubt our gracious King will keep you in check."

Talisa threw her gaze to Robb as he turned back to look at the two women. The healer woman wore a small smirk on her face as she inclined her head to the King and left the tent quickly. Robb took it upon himself to pour Isabelle a cup of water and bring over the plate of cheeses which sat on the table in the corner.

"Drink this," Robb demanded from Isabelle and she sipped on it slowly. Robb sat on the edge of the bed, one arm behind her back as his hand ran up and down it soothingly. She drank slowly, Robb taking the cup from her once she had finished.

"Has there been any news from Stannis?" Isabelle wondered.

"I sent the letter only this morning," Robb said. "I don't expect a response just yet. But do not worry of that, Isabelle."

"I will worry about everything you do," Isabelle promised him. "How can I not, Robb? You worry for me like I worry for you."

"I suspect we will both worry ourselves into an early grave," he joked with her, offering her some cheese from the plate. She looked at it with apprehension, not entirely certain if she was hungry. Robb saw her stoic gaze and he picked a cube up and looked at her with that stern Stark gaze of his.

She opened her mouth and he fed her the cube, watching as she chewed delicately with a hand over her mouth. He seemed appeased once she swallowed and he held up another piece of cheese for her to eat.

"There's something rather strange about feeding you cheese," Robb said, his eyes dark and full of something which caused apprehension to rise inside of Isabelle as Robb moved his hand from her back to dust it along her collarbone which poked out from the robe she wore.

"Robb," Isabelle complained to him as she felt his hand move down the piping on the edge of the robe, slowly revealing her pale skin to him. "Don't!" She finally snapped, pushing his hand from her and Robb looked to her eyes before she turned away from him and he shook his head.

"I had no intention of touching you intimately," he promised her. "Isabelle, I am not him. I would never ever do anything to you that you did not want."

She kept her head to the side, her eyes hooded and her head bowed as Robb moved his hand to her cheek, guiding her gaze back to him. She took a moment to gulp loudly before shaking her head.

"I know." She promised him. "I just..."

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how she felt and she didn't quite understand the repulsion which had come over her when she had felt Robb's hands on her skin. She couldn't quite comprehend, but she didn't want to.

"My King."

Robb had no option to speak anymore to Isabelle as he turned to glance to the boy stood in the flap of the tent, waiting to grab the King in the North's attention.

"What is it?" Robb wondered and Isabelle pulled the robe tighter around her body as Robb placed the cheese platter on his desk. She could only imagine what the boy had thought at the sight of them.

"A scout returned from the South," he spoke. "House Bolton and House Frey have met with Lannister forces. They are riding North as we speak."

Robb looked to Isabelle and her eyes widened at the piece of information. She closed her eyes and felt fear build inside of her as Robb dismissed the boy and looked to his armour in the corner of the room, wondering what to do.

...

A/N: Thank you to c0llapsing97, xxxRena, Dark G0ddess and CLTex for reviewing the previous chapter! Do let me know what you think Robb will do!


	31. Chapter 31

"What do you plan to do?" Isabelle asked as Robb hastily packed his trunk with all of his belongings and found a clean gown he had ordered be brought for Isabelle. She currently sat huddled in the furs on his bed, too scared to speak. She was trying hard to convince herself that Robb would keep her safe. He would not let be hurt by Ramsay again. She knew that.

"I do not know," Robb replied. "I cannot meet them in open battle, but I cannot sit here and wait for Stannis and his reply to my plea."

Isabelle moved from the bed then, wincing in pain and groaning, the audible noises snapping Robb from his daydream as he wandered back to her and took hold of her by the waist, making her sit back down on the edge of the bed once more. She groaned lowly as Robb kept her cradled by his side and she looked to him.

"Do you care for my counsel?"

"Of course," he said, refusing to ignore her merely because she knew nothing of battle. Isabelle had never been stupid and he doubted that would change with regards to battle.

"Head North," she said simply. "You need to head North and treat with Stannis in person and not via a letter. If Ramsay is to head North then the chances of Lord Stannis letting him live if he threatens his kingdom are slim. It makes sense to run away before they grow scared and refuse to follow you."

"And if Stannis kills my men?" Robb asked back.

"Keep your men away from him and ride to treat with him yourself if no word has been received by then," Isabelle spoke. "It is the only way to keep your forces for another day, but it was one more day to give us time to think."

"The ironborn occupy Moat Cailin," Robb responded and Isabelle quirked her brow.

"And we have their future Lord of Pyke," she replied. "They will leave Moat Cailin if they wish to see Theon keep his life and escape the wrath of Balon Greyjoy."

Robb couldn't help the smirk which escaped him as he bent with haste to kiss her on the lips. She winced at the sudden motion before Robb pulled back and tucked her hair behind her ear, wondering where she had gotten her brains from. No wonder it was from years of trying to outsmart her husband.

"The ironborn are not to know that Balon Greyjoy does not care for his eldest son. They would not dare risk his life," Isabelle promised Robb in a soft voice. "Take Theon with you to run them out. They surely do not have enough men to try and overthrow you."

"No," Robb said and he found a green gown for Isabelle to wear. He picked it up from the chair it had been folded on and Isabelle stood again, untying the robe from her body as Robb wondered what was running through her mind. "Do you need me to help you dress?"

"Do you have my underclothes?" Isabelle wondered and Robb gulped as he caught sight of the side of one of her breasts. He picked her underclothes up from the floor and Isabelle finally pushed the robe from her body in time for Robb to see her naked figure. He inhaled once at the sight of the scars on her back before she turned to face him and he noted small scars on her stomach and bruises marring her pale skin. He could see that her breasts were smaller than Roslin's, but he struggled to see that as a disadvantaged. Her ribs poked out from her skin, showing that she needed to eat. He did his best not to stare at the junction of her thighs as he helped her slip into her underclothes, his fingers tickling against her intimately as he did so.

"One day," Isabelle promised him as she saw him stare at her breasts, his hands wanting to do nothing more than reach out and touch them. "One day I will let you have me."

"No," Robb replied gently as he then helped her slip into her gown. "We will both have each other. I will not fuck you like an animal in heat...I am not him..."

Isabelle took a deep breath at his words, wondering if he would pleasure her like Ramsay had often tried to do. He simply was not that good at the act as he had thought. Robb pulled her hair over her shoulder as he laced her into the material and then planted a wet kiss to her neck.

"I shall inform the men that we are to pack up and leave," Robb informed her. "Stay here and I shall come back to collect you."

"As you say," Isabelle said, finding that she did not have the energy to argue with him.

Robb bent down to kiss her again before he left the tent and Isabelle collapsed to sit on the bed once more, breathing loudly as fear took hold of her body. The fear that she would face Ramsay sooner than she had hoped she would.

It was only moments later when the flap to the tent opened up and Lady Stark stepped into the tent, her eyes wide and full of annoyance and sorrow.

"Lady Stark," Isabelle forced out the pleasantry from her lips. "Has Robb told you that he is intending to travel North?"

"Yes," Catelyn bluntly said. "He is running away from a war which you have caused. You are aware of that, are you not?"

Isabelle turned her head to the side and forced her body to stand again. "I should go and find Talia."

"No," Catelyn replied, taking Isabelle by the wrist and forcing her to look her in the eye. She could see that the Lady Stark was suffering. She had two daughters and two sons missing from her care, her husband had died and her eldest son was fighting a war he seemed unlikely to win. "I need you to see sense."

"How?" Isabelle replied. "I can do nothing. Ramsay made this lie and House Frey agreed with it. I did not want for them to turn against Robb. I faked my own death so that I could leave this place and allow Robb a chance to win the war. Ramsay caused this, not me."

"But you could stop this," Catelyn whispered. "Ride to the Twins and tell Lord Walder of your crimes-"

"-My crimes?" Isabelle blathered back. "I have committed no crime and I shall do no such thing. Robb has already said that he could not trust House Frey again. He would not want their allegiance."

"But he needs it. Stannis Baratheon will not treat with him. He is possessed by the Red Woman and power...House Frey is our only hope...go to them and admit that you have done wrong. Please do this for Robb."

"And allow them to send me back to Ramsay? Allow him to take me back to the Dreadfort? Do you have any idea what he would do to me?" Isabelle wondered and judging by Catelyn's reaction, the woman had a vague idea. "You know how he flayed me...do you know how I lost our child because of it? Do you know how he would take pleasure in freeing women into the forest and then chasing them and raping them? He named his bitches after the women who gave a good fight, and flayed those who did not?"

Catelyn gulped and felt her mouth dry up as she heard Isabelle.

"Or the one time he brought one of his whores to our marriage bed?" Isabelle continued to snap. "I walked in and found her with him. He made me sit and watch the ways of pleasuring a man; something he found to his benefit after a few weeks."

Isabelle inhaled sharply and pulled her wrist from Catelyn's loose grasp. "So do not stand there and ask me to go back to that when it will bring no good to your son's war. I would go back if I thought I could help him. I would go back and spread my legs for Ramsay if I knew it would help. But it will not and I will not stand here and listen to your preach to me."

Catelyn remained wide eyed as Isabelle wandered around the tent, her hand tentatively holding onto her side as she did so. The woman remained mute by the entrance to the tent, and it was only when silence fell did Robb make his presence known. His mother's gaze turned to him and she could see by his harsh expression that he had heard everything she had said.

"Robb-"

"-I told you that I would not have her sent back to Ramsay Snow," Robb said through gritted teeth and Catelyn wondered whether or not she would earn her son's forgiveness. "But you come in here and plead with her to go back to ruins."

"I was only trying to help...surely her husband would be happy to have her back...just like Roslin..."

"And do you not recall what I told you that day in the Godswood?" Robb snapped. "I told you what he did to her and you would have her sent back to that?"

"I would have you kept alive," Catelyn retaliated. "You are my eldest son and I love you. I do not want her to ruin you."

Robb shook his head as he moved over to Isabelle and she looked at him with wide orbs, not wishing to put a barrier between him and his mother. He reached out for her hand, waiting expectantly for her to take it. She did so, her fingers slipping between his and Catelyn looked away from the motion.

"Isabelle will be my wife one day," Robb said with conviction, whether or not he truly believed it was another matter. "Lady of Winterfell...I shall not have her sent back to be Ramsay Snow's whore."

"I never meant to-"

"-The horses are ready and waiting," Robb informed his mother. "That is all I have to say on the matter."

Catelyn kept still as her son wrapped his arm around Isabelle's waist and allowed her to rest against him as they wandered out to the horses. All she wanted was for her son to be happy and alive; not fighting a war he had no chance of winning.

...

A/N: Next chapter we catch up with Ramsay and see Stannis's reaction to Robb's letter. Please do let me know what you think so far!


	32. Chapter 32

Isabelle had fallen asleep as she rode with Robb. He had been too concerned to allow her to ride on her own, knowing that she was more than likely to fall from her horse if she did so. He kept her cradled in his arms, one arm hooked around her waist as she kept hers around his armour covered midriff, her head on his chest.

She had fretted for the beginning of the journey, wondering whether or not Catelyn had spoken sense to her. She understood the position the woman was in, but not for one minute did Isabelle want to go back to Ramsay. Robb had said as much to her too; refusing to let her doubt her acts.

"Robb," Isabelle finally mumbled his name, her head hitting against his chest as his horse continued to move lazily forwards.

"Hm?" Robb mumbled down to her and she wrapped her arms tighter around him, not answering his questioning grunt. He looked down once more and saw that her eyes were firmly shut and that his name had been a product of her dream. He smiled fondly and bent his head awkwardly to kiss the top of her head, wondering what she was dreaming about as he completed the motion. He hoped her dreams were sweet enough.

"My King."

Robb looked to the side, noting Talia as she rode besides him. Robb kept to the back of the congregation, urging his men to ride ahead of him and keep safe. He could also keep his eye on them too.

"Yes?" Robb spoke and Talia noted that Isabelle still slept sweetly. Talia smiled at the sight of her in Robb's arms. She was back in the one place she had longed to be more than anything.

"I wished to ask you a question," Talia said. "Once this war is over; do you intend to take Isabelle for your own wife...if your marriages are annulled?"

Robb looked down to Isabelle again and nodded. "Why?"

"I wish to stay in Isabelle's company. I was her handmaiden before and I only hoped that I could continue to be once this war has finished. I did not know if you would want me...well...I wanted to be sure that I could stay with her..." Talia finished her mutterings and Robb nodded to her, his gaze honest and stern.

"I doubt Isabelle would allow me to send you away, but I have no intention of doing so. You kept her alive and I am in your debt for that. You need not be her handmaiden...merely her friend." Robb finished and Talia's lips quirked upwards and she inclined her head in his direction, grateful to him for not sending her away when she knew it would be so easy for him to do so.

"Thank you, Your Grace," she said and they went back to riding in silence for a while.

Robb kept his thoughts to himself, only when a rider from miles ahead rode back did he sit up straight and narrow his gaze. The man came closer and the sound of horse's hooves hitting the ground woke Isabelle from her slumber.

"What is it?" Robb asked, sensing the grave look on the man's face was something he should be troubled by.

"Ironborn men rode from Moat Cailin to greet us. They are leagues ahead and demand to see you before any decision is made."

Nodding, Robb swept down from his horse, checking that his sword was still sheathed as he did so.

"Find Theon and have him ride up the pack and wait there. I shall treat with them. Gather a handful of men to take the women away from her, but not too far away should battle breakout. They are not to be involved in this."

"Yes, my King," the man rode off again and Robb offered his hands to Isabelle, clasping them onto her waist to help her down from his white horse. She stumbled with her footing, falling against Robb as her hands gripped at his shoulders tightly and he looked down to her with the stern gaze she knew all too well.

"Wait with my men," he demanded from her. "I should not be gone for too long. Ride with Talia and stay rested."

"You mentioned a battle," Isabelle whispered urgently and Robb shook his head, knowing that he had little time to discuss matters with Isabelle and try to soothe her.

He bent down swiftly as his mother approached on top of her horse, her eyes wide and full of concern. Robb failed to care that she was watching as he pressed his lips to Isabelle's lips and kissed her chastely. He pulled back and picked her up once more, setting her down atop of Talia's horse, her handmaiden in front of her as Isabelle held onto her waist.

"Robb," she called out, bending over and wincing in pain as she grabbed his wrist to stop him from leaving straight away. "Come back," she pleaded with him in a soft voice.

He gave her hand one final squeeze before mounting his own horse and galloping away, the sight of him slowly fading into the distance as Isabelle clung onto Talia for support. The younger girl looked over her shoulder and awkwardly moved her hand to pat Isabelle's hand lightly as ten guards suddenly swarmed around them.

Catelyn moved her horse next to Talia's, her eyes focused on Isabelle as the young girl continued to stare into the distance, obviously worried about Robb and what would become of him at the front of the congregation.

"It never gets easier," Catelyn informed the girl, her voice nothing more than a mere whisper. "Watching him ride into danger will never get easier...for any of us..."

...

Night had fallen and there had still been no return of Robb. The ten guards had ordered for the three women to sit inside of the tent they had set up whilst they remained outside, keeping guard and keeping watch. Isabelle knew that they had lost valuable riding time away from House Frey and House Bolton. She was well aware that they had only had a day's head start, and that was slowly fading from them.

The men that had been riding found themselves further ahead now, surely closer to Moat Cailin than the ten guards protecting Lady Stark, Isabelle and Talia. Talisa had refused to sit idle in a tent; claiming that it was likely men would be injured and she would be needed should that happen. Isabelle had not argued with her, but she only wished she could have gone with Robb. She was well aware that she would have been more of a hindrance than a help, but she just wanted to be certain he was safe.

"We should not sit here until morning," Isabelle finally spoke, standing from the seat she had been occupying for hours on end.

"And what do you suggest we do?" Lady Stark asked her back, the candle flickering in the darkness as Isabelle paced the tent, her shadow cast against the side of the tent. "We can scarcely ride up to Moat Cailin without Robb's consent."

"Robb has been gone for hours," Isabelle cried out. "He should not have been gone this long, and you know that. What if a battle has begun? Robb should have won it; should he not? He outnumbered the ironborn and had Theon as a hostage. There is something not quite right."

"My son would not be happy to know that we disobeyed his orders," Catelyn said, some form of irony in her voice whilst Isabelle rolled her own eyes. "We are perfectly safe here. Robb will also be safe. Battles take longer than you know, and he will have prisoners to deal with before checking that Moat Cailin is safe. Battle is not just about stabbing the man who runs towards you and that is it."

Isabelle ground her teeth together and folded her arms over her chest, huffing loudly at Catelyn and her stubbornness.

"And the longer we sit here idle, the more chance my sweet husband has to catch us up," Isabelle responded. "He would have left the Twins as soon as I escaped him. He is no fool."

"He would have to amass his army before leaving."

"You do not know Ramsay like I do," Isabelle warned her. "I will find the guards and tell them that we should go."

"Did you not listen..." Catelyn trailed off as the girl left the tent and made her way outside. Shaking her head back and forth, she sat back down in her seat and folded one leg over the other, glancing to Talia as the girl remained mute.

"Lady Stark," Isabelle suddenly called her attention. "Did the guards say that they were going to check the area?"

"They never said anything," Catelyn replied as Isabelle pulled the flap to the tent open and placed her head inside, her brows furrowing in confusion as she did so.

"They are not outside."

"Clever girl."

Catelyn startled at the sound of the new voice, having no time to see who it was as Isabelle was grabbed around the waist, a blade pressed tightly against her throat as the man forced her into the tent, licking his lips as others followed him into the tent. He seemed too intent on staring down at Isabelle to note anyone else in the room.

"Did you think that you could run away so easily, sweetling?" he asked from her in a low voice, whispering in her ear.

Isabelle tried to crane her neck from him, doing her best to escape his grip. She failed miserably, her neck only leaning further back against his shoulder as he tantalisingly ran the silver blade along her throat in a feather light touch, the motion causing her to squirm in fear and sickness.

"Now, now," he whispered into her ear. "There is no need to squirm; you see; I have plans for you, Eleanor. Plans you will simply love."

"No," Isabelle hissed, trying to kick from him as two of the eight men to have entered the tent grabbed hold of Catelyn and Talia. Isabelle remained still as she saw a blade press against Talia's throat. She shook her head back and forth, fear radiating through her body as another blade pressed against Lady Stark's neck.

"Robb Stark's mummy and your little bitch," Ramsay snarled in her ear, "which life do you want to spare?"

"You bastard," Isabelle snarled, kicking against Ramsay as she managed to slip from his grasp once her foot had made contact with his knee. Isabelle reacted with haste as the men remained still, not sure if they should restrain her for themselves. They all knew how possessive Ramsay was of his dear wife. No one was to touch her but him.

Isabelle took that moment to reach for the candle, picking it up and pressing it against the man's face who held Lady Stark. He yelled in pain as hot wax fell onto Isabelle's hand and she dropped the candle to the floor, a fire slowly lighting on the ground. Lady Catelyn moved with haste, rushing from the tent before the men could stop her. Four chased after her as Ramsay grabbed Isabelle by her hair.

"You stupid little whore!" he roared at her as he dragged her from the burning tent.

Isabelle continued to fight against him as Talia somehow managed to escape her captor.

"Go!" Isabelle roared at the girl. "Find Robb!"

Talia took a moment to duck under the man who tried to catch her before she too left the burning tent, following Lady Stark into the darkness.

Ramsay tossed his wife over his shoulder and brought her out into the dead of the night, rushing from the flames which were spreading slow but sure and destroying the tent. Isabelle thumped against his back, noting the guards Robb had sent to protect them on the ground, blood seeping from their bodies.

"You think you're really clever, don't you, Eleanor?" Ramsay roared as soon as they were near the horses he had brought with him. "Setting the two of them free so that you could warn Robb Stark about me?"

"He will come back," Isabelle promised Ramsay as he threw her from over his shoulder, her body sliding down his, the friction created causing Ramsay to harden then and there as he looked on at her face. "You have no way of escaping this. I do not see your army."

Ramsay smirked and backed her up against a tree, his fingers curling around her throat as he contemplated what to give her at that moment in time; pleasure or pain.

"There is an army less than a day's ride away. I rode harder and faster...considering I have something which Robb Stark took from me here," Ramsay spoke to her and quickly turned her around, her cheek hitting the tree trunk as his arms moved around her, pinning hers by her sides. He leant forwards, his warm breath in her ear as he breathed heavily.

"And Moat Cailin?" Isabelle checked with him. "How do you expect to sneak through Moat Cailin to take me back to the Dreadfort? Besides, Robb will know that you've taken me back there. Do you honestly think that he will let you hide away in your torture chamber?"

"You're a sweet girl," Ramsay whispered into her ear, one of his hands finding her breast to grope at it. "Naive and sweet."

"So what is your plan?" Isabelle wondered as Ramsay's over hand danced over her inner thigh.

"We're taking you back to Harrenhal," Ramsay whispered into her ear. "Robb Stark wants to flee North and amass an army? Fine with me, but he will not dare run South into the lion's den where it is safe for us."

Isabelle felt her stomach churn as she tried to fight against Ramsay, wanting nothing more than to escape his grip as fear and disgust took hold of her. It was only when he spun her around to begin walking towards the horses did Isabelle see him stood there. She had never been so grateful for the sight of the King in the North, his sword raised and pointed straight at Ramsay.

"Where are your men, my King?" Ramsay taunted, pulling out his dagger and pressing it to Isabelle's throat again.

"I brought ten men back with me from Moat Cailin," Robb admitted. "They bumped into your men and my mother. I doubt they shall leave her alive."

"Pity," Ramsay said, sounding as though it was anything but a pity. "And you? You rode on, not content until you had my wife back. You must take after the ironborn in a way...you take what you want, regardless of whether it is yours or not."

"Let her go," Robb warned Ramsay. "I may give you a less painful death then."

Ramsay pulled Isabelle tighter against his body as he moved them to circle Robb, the motion cold and calculating. Robb kept his sword in his grip, his eyes locked on Isabelle as fear radiated through his body at what Ramsay might do to her.

"I have thought of a way to torture you," Ramsay pointed out. "How much would it hurt for you to sit and watch me as I fuck her in ways you wouldn't know how? I doubt you'd enjoy it very much, but I certainly would...to watch her moan and groan underneath me..."

Robb lunged and Ramsay stepped back, moving closer to his horse as Isabelle moved with haste during his time of movement. She acted quickly, her elbow making sharp contact with Ramsay's stomach as he doubled over in obvious pain. She jumped out of his hold and turned around, wrestling the blade from his hands as he tried to fight her for domain over it.

"You will learn, Eleanor!" He roared at her. It was then when she kicked him in the shin and she took hold of the blade. Ramsay drew his sword from his sheathe and held it in front of him.

Robb stood next to Isabelle as she gripped the blade in her fingertips, her body shaking with fear as Ramsay looked between the pair of them.

"Would you both like a go at killing me? Eleanor failed miserably the first time," Ramsay spoke.

"She will have no part in this," Robb decided. "You have caused her enough suffering without furthering her pain. I shall kill you and I shall put an end to your torture."

"How sweet," Ramsay said and it was then when he lunged forwards.

Robb pushed Isabelle to the side, the girl tumbling to the cold floor as the dagger slipped from her hands. She heard the sound of swords clashing together as her eyes widened in horror and Robb's sword hit against Ramsay's sword. Robb was clearly the more professional, dodging Ramsay's haphazard swings with ease. But Ramsay was relentless. He had always been quick with a blade, keener to slice up his opponent than consider what wounds he would receive from a battle. Isabelle knew he had never been trained and it showed.

"Robb!" she cried his name as Ramsay pinned him against a tree, their blades by their necks as they fought for dominance. She rushed over, her hands grabbing hold of Ramsay's elbow as she tried to pull him off of Robb. She succeeded in distracting him as Robb pushed Ramsay from him, the Bolton bastard falling to the floor whilst Robb kept his sword pointed just beneath his chin, panting for breath as he nodded to Isabelle and made sure she was safe.

"Do it," Ramsay taunted Robb. "How easy would it be to stick a sword through my throat and end the pain?"

"Quite easy," Robb said and Ramsay smirked before rolling on the ground and away from Robb's blade. But the tip of it cut him down the throat, not deep enough to kill, but enough to draw blood from what looked like the scratch mark.

"You should act quicker," Ramsay warned Robb. "But perhaps I shall prolong this conversation for another day? Lord Robb seems to have enough blood on his hands for now."

And it was true enough. Isabelle had scarcely noted the dried blood on Robb's face and the blood which covered his armour. It was disgusting enough, but Isabelle wondered why Ramsay wanted to run away now. He could have her, but she knew what he thought. He could not beat Robb with a sword.

"There will be no other time," Robb said and Ramsay ran then, rushing to a horse and climbing atop of it. Robb followed him, not catching him up in time and cursing as he rode into the distance, laughing manically whilst Isabelle took hold of Robb by the elbow. He turned to look down at her, his hands rough as he cradled her cheeks.

"Did he hurt you?" Robb demanded in a harsh voice and Isabelle shook her head.

"He did not have chance...he's gone...but he'll be back..." Isabelle said through deep breaths. "He needs more men and he would not have bested you."

"He will not win," Robb promised her. "I will see to that."

Nodding, Isabelle pressed her head against the crook of Robb's neck and he tucked her underneath his chin, his arms wrapped tightly around her. His breath came out in short and sharp pants as he closed his eyes for a moment, his hands entwining into her hair and he held her close, relief finally flowing through his veins.

...

A/N: So thank you to everyone who reviewed and do let me know what you all think!


	33. Chapter 33

"He just attacked so fast," Isabelle informed Robb as they sat in a chamber of Moat Cailin. The ironborn had taken it upon themselves to destroy everything which stood in their path. Their bodies littered the grounds outside, each one of them there because they had refused to surrender, not even the sight of Theon Greyjoy brought fear to them. Isabelle now sat on a bed with Robb laid in front of her, his chest bare and his breeches covering his modesty.

They had seen that everyone had escaped Ramsay before retiring for the remainder of the evening. Catelyn had tried to fuss over her son, but Isabelle had been the one to drag him to a chamber, insisting that she would care for him. She could see that Robb had no inclination to speak with his mother, his anger still consuming him over what she had said to him previously.

"Well now he has gone cowering with his tail between his legs," Robb grunted out as Isabelle moved a wet cloth over his face, wiping away the dried blood which sat there. She remained on her knees as she bent over Robb and thanked the Gods that his body had not been battered to within an inch of its life. "We will ride for Stannis's camp and discover the truth there. I shall speak with him and plead with him if I must."

"I do not doubt it," Isabelle whispered, kissing him on the forehead in one swift and tender motion. Robb closed his eyes as he felt her lips press against his forehead and she smiled softly before continuing to run the cloth down the side of his face.

"I feared the worst when I saw he had you pressed against that tree...his hands running all over your body as though he owned you," Robb shook his head, his anger continuing to swell inside of him. "If I had known that they were so close then I would never have left you there-"

"-But you did not know," Isabelle interrupted him before he could continue to play the blame game with himself. "You did not know that he was so near, or that he could have killed us. None of this is your fault, Robb."

Nodding, Robb forced his body to sit up against the pillows as Isabelle moved her body to straddle his lap, dropping the wet cloth to the floor with total disregard. She ran her hands down his cheeks to his neck, finally settling them on his bare shoulders. Her eyes shamelessly ran down the length of his torso and Robb smirked at seeing her. She took a moment to gulp loudly at the sight of how muscular he had become during war. He hid it well underneath his layers of clothing.

"I blame you for none of this," Isabelle whispered again, Robb's finger moving to tilt her chin upwards so that she could look him in the eye. It took a few moments before her lips descended onto his and her hands found his curly hair. She forgot the pain she was in from their erratic movements as Robb's hands found the small of her back and pressed her tightly against his body.

"I love you," Robb spoke into her ear once his lips moved from hers and her head rested on his shoulder delicately. "I love you more than you can imagine, Isabelle."

She smiled at hearing him and kissed his pale neck. "And I love you."

...

Robb had decided to leave some men to keep hold of Moat Cailin, ordering them to make sure they had effective barricades to keep the Moat held and strong. Robb had then rode out, making way towards Stannis Baratheon's camp which was leagues in front of the Wall. He knew that it would take him days to reach the place, but he wondered if Stannis would meet him in the middle. He had heard no word from Stannis Baratheon whatsoever; the man had sent no raven to reply to his message.

Robb wondered if he was toying with him, but he then considered that the raven had not gotten to Stannis. Either way, Robb did not want to think that Stannis would not accept his offer. It was a fair offer, and most certainly one worth taking.

"Robb."

A sigh escaped the King in the North as he heard his mother call for his attention. They had set up camp once more and he had allowed Isabelle to wander off with Talia on her arm, the pair of them speaking of what had happened the previous night.

"What is it?" Robb wondered back. "I have some men to see to."

"I am your mother, Robb," Catelyn exasperated. "Stop trying to push me away from you."

"Then stop trying to push Isabelle from me," Robb retaliated quickly. "I will not allow her to be subject to Ramsay's games again. Isabelle saved your life last night. What do you think Ramsay would have done if she had not thought quickly?"

Catelyn sighed, knowing full well that her son spoke sense. If Isabelle had not fought with every fibre of her being then she would not have been here today. Ramsay would have allowed his men to kill her, and Catelyn knew that. She knew it all too well. She just did not wish to admit to it.

"And that is why I am here," Catelyn spoke. "I know that I cannot make you return her to Ramsay. You will not do it, regardless of what I say to you. But...I know that it would not be pleasant for her to go back to Ramsay, and if you are to keep her with you then you need to keep her closely guarded where he cannot get her."

"I will keep her with me," Robb responded. "And have you spoken to Isabelle of this?"

"No," Catelyn replied. "I am still not happy with the girl being here, Robb. I still think that she is trouble. I still worry what will happen to you if Ramsay gets close to you again...her presence is a danger...but she is not a horrible girl. She is rather sweet and she cares for you. I just wish that you had nipped this in the bud before this war. Maybe then things would be better."

Robb did his best to weigh up his mother's words, shaking his head back and forth as he lazily wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword.

"She is to stay with me," Robb said.

"She is to stay with you," Catelyn echoed back, inclining her head and wandering off once more.

...

"I had not thought the King in the North so handsome until I saw him in person," Talia said, trying to bring a smile to Isabelle's face as the pair of them wandered through the vast encampment back to Isabelle's tent which Robb snuck into at night.

"Well, I am afraid that you cannot have him," Isabelle responded. "But I have noted that you spend a lot of time nursing Theon back to health when Talisa is not around."

A small blush spread over Talia's cheeks as Isabelle lazily gave a smile to her friend. Talia looked to the floor under the intensity of her stare and a smile moved over Isabelle's face at her nerves.

"Theon has admitted a lot to me recently," Talia replied. "He says how he is sorry for all that he has done. He wants to move on, but he fears that King Robb will never forgive him. He just wants to be accepted."

"And you are accepting him?" Isabelle continued to tease. "No, Theon is a complicated man. I can only imagine what Ramsay put him through-"

"-You know what Ramsay put him through."

"Ramsay flayed me once and never took any of my fingers from me," Isabelle responded to her. "Theon's physical torture is surely worse than mine. But I am happy he has found some comfort with you...and you seem to enjoy looking out for him..."

"Why would I not?" Talia asked back. "He is a nice man when he is not swearing or being crude."

Isabelle laughed at that and squeezed Talia's arm before she noted Robb moving towards her, clad in his armour with a smile on his face. He held a letter in his hand, held up as he came to Isabelle and offered her his hand.

"What is it?"

"Stannis Baratheon has agreed my terms," Robb said, happiness riding in his voice. "He would have me meet him to destroy the Northern Houses who do not pledge their fealty."

"And where would he meet?" Isabelle wondered and Robb's brows furrowed and a frown covered his face as he heard her query.

"The Dreadfort," he mumbled and Isabelle inhaled sharply and turned her gaze away. "But I would not have you go there if it pains you too much. I would not have you do anything that you wanted."

"Why the Dreadfort?" Isabelle suddenly wondered, curiosity taking hold of her. "It is further than Winterfell and is empty without House Bolton."

"And it will be ruined like Winterfell by the time we are finished with it," Robb concluded and Talia quickly made her exit and Isabelle's mind began to work overtime as Robb took her arm and walked with her into their tent. He took hold of her waist then and bent over to kiss her on the lips.

"Do you not find it suspicious?" Isabelle wondered. "The Dreadfort is in the corner of the North...nowhere near South is Stannis wishes to go South."

"I did not question him," Robb said. "I merely took his offer."

"I think you should ask to meet somewhere else," Isabelle escaped his grasp and paced the tent. "If you go to the Dreadfort it is the wrong direction. It gives time for Ramsay to lead men North...and corner you...besides, how do you know that Ramsay has not wrote to Stannis and asked him for his help? Ramsay has the larger numbers and Stannis would go with him."

"Ramsay does not have the initiative to go to Stannis." Robb said.

"Do not presume to know Ramsay," Isabelle warned him. "I think you should ask to meet somewhere else."

"Stannis may take it as a slight."

"Let him take it how he wants," Isabelle responded. "I have a bad feeling Robb."

Robb moved over to her, trying to soothe her as he pressed his hands to her hips and cradled her body closely to his.

"Do not fret," Robb whispered into her ear as he kissed her ear. "Nothing shall happen."

But Isabelle did not share his optimism, nor should she. Winter was coming, but it was slowly arriving from North and the South to attack them.

...

Isabelle slept by Robb's side, the howling of Grey Wind waking her from her sleep. The wolf often slept outside of their tent, slighted that he could not sleep in the tent with Robb when Isabelle was there. The girl did not mind the wolf. She found Grey Wind to be rather tolerable towards her. Sometimes he looked at her with apprehension, but she knew he was only protecting Robb.

Leaving Robb to sleep, Isabelle moved from the bed and wandered out of the tent in just her nightgown. She looked around and saw Grey Wind sat just around the corner from her. She walked over to him, her feet on the wet grass underneath.

"What's up, boy?" Isabelle wondered; bending slightly to run her hand over his fur covered head. He nuzzled into her hand and his eyes found hers. He looked sad for some reason, his tongue licking at her wrist as she continued to stroke him.

"You think that there is something wrong?" Isabelle wondered and Grey Wind pushed further into her hand as she moved her other one to stroke his back. "So do I...but he won't listen to me, will he? He's stubborn; that owner of yours. You can tell he is a true Stark. I worry for him as much as you do, and I know that he is walking into a trap. He has to be. The Dreadfort is no place to meet...especially when Ramsay is chasing after us..."

Grey Wind growled at his name and Isabelle gave a sad smile before pressing her forehead against his head.

"Isabelle," Robb whispered her name in the darkness as he stood behind her and watched her with his wolf. "What are you doing out here? It is freezing and you have no shoes."

"Grey Wind was howling," Isabelle said as Robb draped his fur cloak around her shoulders and she stood up. "I think even your wolf knows that something is wrong."

"Are we talking about this again?" Robb moaned before he bent to pick Isabelle up from her feet. He cradled her against him as he turned from his wolf and wandered back into his tent. "You shouldn't come out here with scarcely any clothes on your body, Isabelle. You'll catch your death."

"And I fear you are walking towards yours," Isabelle retorted. "Please can you listen to me for once? It would only be logical for Stannis to side with Ramsay if Ramsay has so asked him. He has more men and never tried to take any of his Kingdom from him."

"I never wanted to be the King in the North," Robb shook his head at Isabelle and lowered her onto the bed, crawling over her as he did so. "I never wanted to rule. You know that, Isabelle."

"I know it, but Stannis does not," Isabelle responded. "I am begging you to think about this, Robb. Please...just think about it...if not for your own sanity than for mine..."

Robb moved his hands to wipe her hair from her face as she cradled his cheeks in her hands, her fingertips running through his curly hair as he bent down to kiss her, his beard scraping against her chin as he did so.

"I will think," Robb offered to put her mind at ease. "Now try to sleep, Isabelle. It has been a trying day."

"Many days have been trying," Isabelle mumbled back as Robb rested next to her. "And I fear sleeping in case he comes...he has a habit of knowing where I am all of the time...and if he found me...Robb..."

"No," Robb shook his head forcefully. "He will not have you back. I will run a sword through him next time."

"I tried to once before," Isabelle whispered, her head tucked underneath Robb's chin as she curled her hands against his chest. "I tried so very hard to stop him...Robb...I tried everything...and if the Dreadfort is a trap then what do you think he would do to you?"

"I dread to think," Robb admitted and Isabelle closed her eyes, recalling how the hounds yapped when Ramsay had not fed them in weeks. Images of that forest flashed before her and she could imagine Ramsay chasing her through it. But she could not let that happen. She would not let that happen; not again.

...

A/N: Thank you so much to WhatsGoingOn, DarkG0ddess, xxxRena, CLTex, Katheryne B and littlebeebzzbzz (thank you for the extra long review!) for reviewing. Do let me know what you think. Is it a trap or not?


	34. Chapter 34

"Stannis has not written back to me with regards to finding somewhere else to meet," Robb complained as Isabelle bent down to stroke Grey Wind once again. The direwolf had scarcely left her side since she had asked Robb to write back to Stannis.

Robb stood by his horse as Isabelle continued to kneel and run her hands down Grey Wind's back, the direwolf nuzzling against her as she petted him. Robb took a moment to kneel the other side of his direwolf, his eyes staring to Isabelle as he wondered whether or not she had spoken sense to him before. Perhaps what she had said was true.

"What do you intend to do?" Isabelle wondered from him and Robb shrugged, stroking Grey Wind, but he seemed more interested in Isabelle.

"I cannot go to the Dreadfort, can I?" Robb mumbled and Isabelle stood after patting Grey Wind one more time. She looked over to Robb as he too stood and moved around to her, offering her his arm.

"I think it is a trap," Isabelle said. "I think Grey Wind agrees with me too."

"And he does have a natural instinct," Robb muttered to her and she wrapped her arm inside of his as they began to wander through the encampment which had yet to move. But Robb did not know where to move. He did not know which direction was the best direction.

"But you cannot run back South without being trapped," Isabelle whispered as men inclined their heads as they passed by the King in the North. "West is the only way to go Robb. If you end up travelling any further than you travel to the Wall, and there is nothing there. Torrhen's Square is the only safe place I can think of, Robb."

"And what do I do there?" Robb asked back from her. "I cannot sit and wait for Ramsay or Stannis to come for me. I need Stannis...I need him to understand that I have no intention of taking away the North of Westeros."

"Do you think that he will listen to you?" Isabelle tried. "I worry that it is a trap, Robb...a trap I do not want you to walk into..."

"I have nothing else to do," Robb said and he dragged Isabelle by the hand behind a tent and out of sight. "I have nowhere left to run to, but I will write to Stannis and urge him to reply to me. Is there anyone I can trust anymore?"

Isabelle took a moment to pity Robb, noting how much strain he was under. Bags formed under his clear blue orbs and his forehead was continuously full of lines of confusion and thoughtfulness. Isabelle wished that she could take some of the strain from his shoulders. He had hundreds of men looking up to him, willing for him to keep them alive. But Robb was merely a young man. He was no seasoned warrior, nor had he any idea of political strategy.

"Is your brother still at the Wall?" Isabelle suddenly asked and Robb's brow furrowed.

"I think so," Robb said. "He helped Stannis defeat the Wildling attack."

"Ride to the Wall," Isabelle suddenly blurted out. "Have Stannis return there and have Jon act as a peacekeeper between the two of you. If Stannis trusts Jon then he should trust you. You would never lie to your brother. You need to make Stannis see that."

Nodding, Robb considered her comments. He suspected it made sense. Jon would back his cause. He had heard that his brother was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch now. He was in charge and had power. He had the power to make Stannis see sense, if he could. Robb took another few moments to think. He knew that Jon could not give him men, but he could make Stannis come around to Robb's way of thinking.

"I will send a raven to him. I will tell the men to change direction and head further North instead of East. If anything we should be safe at Castle Black."

"I doubt your mother will approve of this plan," Isabelle suddenly mumbled and Robb nonchalantly shrugged at her.

"My mother will approve if it means survival for another few days. We are cornered in the North, but we will make it home eventually. I have faith that we will."

Isabelle moved to kiss him on the cheek, a small smile on her face as she hoped that she had convinced him to make the right decision. She only hoped that his change of plan would pay off.

...

Ramsay Snow was no fool. He knew that he could corner Robb Stark with ease. He could have him where he wanted him, and that was at the Dreadfort. He had sent a raven to Lord Stannis, promising the men a vast army of House Frey and House Bolton if he did this one thing for him. Robb Stark scarcely had any men, and Stannis knew a losing cause when he saw one.

It was the night after they had taken Moat Cailin when Ramsay rested on his bed, his hands behind his head as he recalled every detail about his beloved wife. He remembered the first night he had met her. It had been a fun night; he could not deny that. He had stolen his first kiss from her and flattered her with compliments until she succumbed to his charm. Of course he had to be charming to her. People were watching and his father had warned him to make a good impression.

Closing his eyes, Ramsay licked his lips and allowed his dreams to take him back to that time.

_Bardtower was scarcely a holdfast like the Dreadfort. Ramsay almost sneered at its appearance as it came into view. He had asked his father of the girl he was to marry, mainly concerned with her appearance and her maidenhead than her personality. Roose had promised his son that the girl was amicable enough for him, and that he should be honoured that a girl of noble birth would soon become his bride. _

_It was only in the evening when Ramsay managed to steal some time alone with his bride to be. He had met her briefly when her parents had greeted them in the courtyard. She was still quite a young thing. Her face was pale and her blonde hair was pinned from her face, flowing in soft waves down her back. She curtseyed neatly whilst Ramsay inclined his head._

_He had spent the rest of the afternoon longing to be back at the Dreadfort and in the woods. He had hounds to let free and women to scare. But he suspected he could have his fun with Eleanor. And he did._

_It was during the feast in the evening when he stood from his chair and walked to stand behind hers, offering her his hand._

"_Would you care to take a walk, my Lady Eleanor?" he wondered from her and the girl hesitantly looked to her mother who nodded, encouraging her to pursue Ramsay's offer. Her pale fingers slipped into his and he helped her from her seat. Slowly, he took her arm to wrap into his. _

_His father looked at him as he led Eleanor from the Great Hall of Bardtower towards the outside where it would be cooler and quieter for them to speak. Roose always thought the worst of his son, but he hoped his warning look was enough to stop Ramsay from trying to claim the girl as his that evening. And for once Ramsay accepted his challenge. How his father's smug look would fall from his face when Eleanor told him how charming his son was._

"_This is much better, do you not think so?" Ramsay said as soon as they were outside in the cool night air. "I have longed to speak with you all evening. Staring at your beauty did not content me so."_

_It was then when he gained his first blush from her. He looked her up and down for a moment, noting the curves of her body which were emphasised by her gown. The dark red colour contrasted with her blonde hair which was still neatly draped down her back. The embroidery on the gown was also quite something, but it was her heaving teats which stole Ramsay's attention._

"_I only hope that I can be a good wife to you," Eleanor finally said after contemplating her words for such a long time. _

_Ramsay smirked and stood still against the castle wall. Eleanor remained in front of him as a roar of laughter escaped the Grand Hall. Ramsay delicately moved his fingers towards the timid girl, pushing her hair over her shoulder before he ran his hand down her neck and over her collarbone._

"_I am sure you will have been taught how to please a man," he said, his voice husky as Eleanor's hands remained firmly by her sides. _

"_I have heard how it is a woman's place to do as her husband commands," Eleanor finally spoke._

"_Yes," Ramsay muttered back, cupping the back of her neck and eliciting a small whimper from her as he pulled her closer to him._

"_My Lord...this is not proper..." she complained._

"_A coupling between a man and a woman can be quite pleasurable for both parties," Ramsay promised her after a moment and his other hand ran down her bare arm, goose-bumps forming on her skin as she did so. "Of course, many men prefer just to fuck their wife, but there is often no pleasure in that."_

"_My Lord...please..." Eleanor tried again and Ramsay shook his head, trying to soothe her as his fingers tangled into her hair._

"_We are to be married and no one can see us." He promised her. "I will not let anyone see, nor will I disgrace you in any way."_

_She seemed to relax slightly, her posture loosening as Ramsay stared at her plump red lips._

"_Has any man ever tried to claim you?" he wondered from her. "Has a noble knight tried to steal a kiss from you?"_

_She shook her head at him. "Never, my Lord. My husband is the only one with the right."_

_Ramsay's smirk grew as he looked her in the eye and moved the hand from her arm to her hands, entwining his fingers into hers. She seemed shocked at his boldness, but his hand engulfed hers and his thumb ran up and down her finger as he saw her flush a deep red. He moved their positions, slowly pushing her against the wall as her free hand came out to hold onto his shoulder. _

"_You look exquisite," Ramsay whispered to her. "I would like nothing more than to kiss you. Do you think you can permit me that? No one is watching and I have no intention of ruining you. One simple kiss is all I ask."_

_And she nodded to him. Ramsay wasted no time in moving his head down to capture her lips against his. He pressed them firmly together, a sudden need coursing through his veins as he longed to do nothing more than release her hand and run his fingers down her body. She would moan for him then. He could only imagine his father's face if Ramsay did not control himself. Fucking the girl on the dirtied floor was not something which bothered Ramsay._

_But he would be gentle with her for now. He would have her sing his praises and dangle on his arm prettily. He did not doubt that he would keep his facade up for long when he reached the Dreadfort. How could he?_

"_There," Ramsay said once he pulled back from her. "That wasn't too bad, was it?"_

"_No, my Lord," Eleanor replied and Ramsay kept her hand in his as he began to walk again._

"_We should go inside," he said. "Perhaps you can spend the night dancing with me? I would hate for any other man to hold you in his arms."_

_And then she beamed. The foolish girl actually smiled at his compliments. Yes, she would be an easy one to control. And she would be Ramsay's until the end of his days. Always his._

_..._

A/N: I hope you didn't mind the flashback! Thanks to Lizzete, xxxRena and CLTex for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	35. Chapter 35

_She was back in the woods. The very same woods that haunted her whenever she fell asleep. The mist swirled around her feet and her gown clung to her body tightly, the skirts barely swishing around her. It was only the sound of dogs which drew her from the daze she had been in. She looked behind her, the high shrubbery masking the sight of the hounds, but the barking spooked her enough into movement._

_She rushed with haste, running through the dirt and losing a slipper in the process. The other one soon followed as she jumped over a fallen tree and her foot clipped the bottom of it. She fell to the floor, dirt covering her face as she scrambled to her feet, her palms hitting something hard on the ground as she did so._

_She finally found her feet and began running again, but this time his voice joined her._

"_Eleanor!"_

_She ignored him, knowing that he would catch up with her if she stopped and turned around. That was where they all went wrong. They always stopped and looked. She should never stop and look, nor should she cry. He liked the ones who cried. He enjoyed them more than the strong ones. But she would not be the weak one. She could not be the weak one._

"_Eleanor, we both know you won't make it out of these woods." He shouted after her. "Letting you go was not part of my plan."_

_She couldn't help but wonder why they were bothering with this chase if he had no intention of letting her go. Why did he not just keep her in his chamber and do as he pleased to her there? It was bound to happen._

_But there was something inside of her which remained vigilant. She could escape. She had heard of it before and she could do it. She jumped down into a small stream, her body aching as she collapsed into the small amount of water and rushed down it. Perhaps she could throw the hounds from her scent? She finally found her feet again, but then she looked up the embankment and her heart dropped._

_How did he manage to get there? She thought that she had been faster than that. But she hadn't been. He held his bow and arrow in his hands as he climbed from his horse and looked down at her. _

"_You wouldn't shoot me," she spoke, doing her best to keep her voice even and harsh. "I know you wouldn't."_

"_I wouldn't test me, Eleanor," he warned her back, sliding down the embankment, almost losing his feet. He stormed across the water towards her, his boots sloshing in the dirty water as he finally grabbed hold of her. His hand was rough as he grabbed her chin and pushed her against the broken stone wall._

_She whimpered as he did so, her hands moving to grab hold of his wrists as she tried to escape his grip. His other hand pulled at her sopping wet dress at her stomach, allowing it to ping back against her skin._

"_You got your gown all dirty, Eleanor," he scolded her, noting how she fought back the tears in her eyes. "And I paid for this gown especially. Your lovely blue riding gown...but now you've dirtied it and ruined it..."_

_She kept silent as she felt his body press firmly against hers._

"_Why?" she whimpered as he kissed the side of her neck._

"_Why what, Eleanor?" he wondered back from her. "Why am I doing this to you? Why am I torturing you so?"_

_She nodded as he kissed her squarely on the lips, his hands digging mercilessly into her waist. His lips were plump and wet as he dominated her mouth. She couldn't help but squirm against him, unknowingly causing him to moan in satisfaction. Her hands pushed at his stomach, but she received no result._

"_You left me," he whispered to her once he removed his lips from hers. "You ran away from me and you can't do that, Eleanor. You are mine and I need to teach you a lesson."_

"_I've learnt it," she whispered quickly. "Please, I said I was sorry. All I wanted was for you to love me...for it to be how it was when I first met you...please...I want that..."_

_He smiled at her again and reached for the laces at the back of her dress as her hands moved around his neck and her tired body slumped against his. Perhaps he would leave her if she didn't fight? Perhaps it would all go away. He seemed pleased with her hands against his neck as his fingers delicately and torturously pulled her laces loose._

"_So much has happened since then," he reminded her. "You disobeyed me and ran away. If you want my forgiveness then you need to earn it, Eleanor. How willing are you?"_

"_Please," she sobbed once more against his shoulder his hands groped at her backside before pulling her gown upwards. She closed her eyes as the breeze hit her legs and Ramsay's hands were soon on her bare thigh, hiking her to sit against the wall, trapped between him and the stones. Her legs wound around his waist as he looked her in the eye._

"_I suggest you stop saying please," he warned her. "It will do you no good now, Eleanor."_

_She was about to scream for help, another yell of despair-_

"Isabelle."

Her eyes opened wide as she heard his deep voice and felt his hand shake her shoulder. She sat bolt right up, sweat pooling down her face and neck, dripping onto her chest. She raked a shaking hand through her hair as she felt hands wrap around her waist. She fought for a moment before his face came into view. His curly hair was mussed up from sleep and his eyes were hooded. His shirt was loose around his body and his arms were around her waist.

"Sorry," Isabelle whispered. "Bad dream...I..."

"You were shouting," Robb grumbled back to her, wondering if he should light some more candles. "I didn't know whether to wake you. Mother says you shouldn't wake someone from a nightmare, but I had an idea what you were dreaming of."

"It isn't difficult to guess," Isabelle responded in a whisper, pulling at her nightgown which was askew around her body.

"Come," Robb whispered into her ear, urging for her to lay back down by his side.

She did so tentatively, Robb's arms snaking around her waist and her cheek pressed against his chest. She didn't bother to close her eyes. She didn't want to. She knew full well that a peacefully night sleep wasn't possible.

...

The Wall was nothing like Robb had ever imagined. He looked up at it, wondering how it could ever possibly have been formed. Isabelle sat in front of him on his horse, wrapped in one of his spare fur cloaks with his riding gloves which buried her hands. She kept an arm hooked around his waist as his horse slowed and he saw a figure in the distance.

The man was dressed all in black, his black curly hair a contrast against his pale face. Robb beamed widely at the sight of him and climbed down from his horse, offering Isabelle his hand. She took hold of his hand and then his shoulder, allowing him to help her onto the floor.

"Go to him," Isabelle whispered, patting his shoulder.

He kissed her on the top of her head and then rushed through the snow towards his half brother. Isabelle remained stood by her horse as Catelyn stood by her, looking to Robb as he embraced Jon Snow.

"He is his brother, but I could never raise him as my son," she whispered. "I do not like being here, Lady Eleanor, but I know it was your idea. You are playing this game for my son-"

"-I am trying to keep your son alive," Isabelle promised Catelyn. "The Dreadfort was a trap-"

"-You do not know that."

"I had a suspicion," Isabelle shrugged. "But I do know that I don't appreciate you calling me Eleanor. Only he ever did that and I don't want to remember him."

Isabelle stormed off to stand next to Talia and Talisa. Her young friend was helping to hold Theon up. The Lord of the Iron Islands was still weak, but he seemed to enjoy having Talia keep her arms around her.

"So that is Jon Snow?" Talisa checked with Isabelle. "His half brother?"

"It is," Isabelle said as they began to walk forwards. "Jon has always been a rather brooding individual, but he does love his family more than anyone. He was always close to Robb, even more so to his little sister."

"And now he is a man of the Night's Watch?" Talisa checked. "Why did he choose such a cold path?"

"The Gods only know," Isabelle mumbled as they finally came to stand near Robb.

"Your arrival is quite a surprise," Jon commented to his brother as they finished with the pleasantries. "I wrote to Stannis and he is returning to the Wall. I helped his men and gave them shelter. I shall vouch for you in this war to the best of my ability. Hopefully we can persuade Stannis to join your cause."

"Did you know if he had joined House Bolton and House Frey?" Robb asked as Isabelle rested her hand on his arm and he moved his slight attention to her, wrapping his arm around her waist as she shivered in the freezing cold.

"A raven was received from House Bolton, but I thought nothing of it and it was not in my place to read it when it was addressed to Stannis," Jon shook his head. "I wished that I had. It would have been different then."

"Aye," Robb agreed. "I am sorry for involving you in this, Jon. I know that the Lord Commander should remain neutral in such battles."

"I shall," Jon promised Robb. "Your letter was rather informative, but I cannot let you lose this war. You are my brother after all."

"Thank you," Robb said.

"You may want to keep her close," Jon motioned to Isabelle which his chin. "We have a couple of hundred of men at the Wall who have taken vows. If they-"

"-I understand," Robb interrupted, his grip on Isabelle seemingly increasing.

"Come along then," Jon said, noting how Catelyn glared at him from over Robb's shoulder. "I shall show you to your chambers and you can rest and eat. I trust it has been a long journey."

...

"Perhaps you should allow Grey Wind to share a chamber with your mother and Talisa?" Isabelle suggested as she knelt by the fire in the chamber she and Robb was sharing. Her hands hovered over the flames as her teeth chattered. She still wore Robb's fur cloak over her shoulders, but nothing seemed to help rid her of the cold.

"Talia is with Theon in the next chamber, but your mother and Talisa might need protection," Isabelle concluded and Robb looked to the direwolf who lay in the corner.

"You might be right," he spoke and directed his wolf to his mother's chamber before moving towards Isabelle again. He knelt behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, allowing her to lean back in between his open legs, the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

"Gods...whose idea was it to come here?" Isabelle mumbled and Robb chuckled against her, his hands running up and down her stomach to create some friction to keep her warm.

"I think it was yours," Robb responded to her and covered her hands with his as he held them over the flames of the fire. "You'll warm up soon enough, and we hopefully won't be here for too long. Long enough to speak with Stannis and gain his favour."

"And then?" Isabelle worried.

"And then I go to battle again," Robb said and Isabelle's hands tightened underneath his. "I have been to battle and not lost, Isabelle."

"Do not say that," Isabelle mumbled, moving her legs from underneath her to curl to the side as Robb did the same, his legs trapping hers and his hands moving from the fire to rest against her stomach again. "Please." She begged him.

"I will say nothing," Robb assured her and she leant her head back against his chest. "But I will beat Ramsay Snow and I will marry you one day. He will haunt your nightmares no more when that day comes. I promise you."

"So long as you stay alive then we can get through anything," Isabelle promised Robb and he kissed her tenderly before hearing a knock on the door.

"Robb, a raven arrived," Jon's voice called through the door and Robb stood up and opened the wood, watching as Jon handed him the letter and inclined his head, a sad look on his face as he did so. Robb knew who it was from as soon as he saw it was addressed to Isabelle.

"Sorry," Jon mumbled and left again as Robb closed the door.

"What is it?" Isabelle wondered and Robb turned to look at her with wide orbs. She noted the handwriting on the letter instantly and her stomach churned. Robb sat down behind her once again as she took the letter from him. He kissed her neck once as his arms held her again.

"He will not have you," Robb said. "Whatever is in that letter does not matter. He will not have you."

Nodding, Isabelle peeled the envelope open and began to read the letter with Robb hovering over her shoulder.

_My sweet wife,_

_ How clever of you to have foiled my plan. I had to admit that I did not think the Wolf King would believe you. I thought he would be too eager to gain Stannis's favour that he would think the Dreadfort was merely coincidental. Besides, House Bolton is rather vast. It would make sense for Stannis to start there if he wanted to destroy any Northern Houses that were not loyal to him. But he is on our side. He may ride for Castle Black, but he will not join you, no matter how much convincing you try. Spreading your legs for him won't help you this time. He's an honourable man. _

_I have asked him to spare your life should he come into contact with you. He is to bring you back to me where I shall once again have you. Did you honestly think that you could escape this? He might even kill Robb Stark in front of you. That would ruin your dreams, would it not? To know that he will never be yours once he is burnt and dead. There is no escape from this. You are my wife and you will bear my children and sit prettily on my arm. But you will be punished for what you have done; make no mistake about that._

_And I have plenty of ideas_

_Until that time, I suggest you enjoy spending your last moments with Robb Stark._

_Your husband,_

_Ramsay Snow_

_Heir to the Dreadfort and Bardtower._

Isabelle finished reading the letter and Robb snatched it from her hands, screwing it up and throwing it into the flames. Isabelle watched it burn as Robb held onto her tightly.

"Ignore him. He is trying to scare you, but that is it. Nothing will happen and I will see to that."

Isabelle kept silent and allowed Robb to hold onto her for a while longer, her mind still ravelling from the letter she had just read. She closed her eyes and all she could see was Ramsay's face haunting her. Would he ever stop? Would this war ever end?

...

A/N: So thank you to xxxRena, CLTex, Katheryne B, c0llapsing97, Thess. T for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think? Also, do people want some more Ramsay or just stay with Robb? I'm inclined to write more Ramsay POV scenes as I find him an interesting character, but do let me know what you think! Thanks!


	36. Chapter 36

"My Lady, you shouldn't be out here so late. You could freeze to death."

Isabelle was stood by the edge of the Wall, wrapped in Robb's cloak with his gloves on her fingers. She had her arms folded and her eyes peering over the side of the Wall. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she often wondered what would happen if life could be taken so easily. What would happen if she fell from the Wall? Would it hurt? Or would all of the pain go away? All of the misery Isabelle felt when she wasn't with Robb? Even when she was with Robb, she worried about Ramsay catching her.

She only worried what he would do if he got her.

"I am perfectly alright," Isabelle turned her head over her shoulder as Jon came to stand by her side, still dressed in black like he had been days ago. She remained silent for a few moments as Jon stood by the fire and rubbed his gloved hands together over the flames.

"Does Robb know that you're out here?" Jon wondered.

"He has no idea," she mumbled. "Do you think he would let me out here willingly? He's a heavy sleeper."

"Does he still snore?" Jon asked from the times when they shared a chamber together.

"Constantly," Isabelle said and Jon let out a laugh which caused Isabelle to giggle also as the pair of them looked to the floor and their laughter died down.

"Robb's a good man," Jon finally spoke. "I only hope that Stannis can see that and bring his forces to his side."

"You brought the letter to me earlier," Isabelle said. "It was from Ramsay. He said that Stannis would rally to his side regardless of anything. How can we trust Stannis knowing that? Even if he agrees to join Robb...who can we really trust? And all of this is because of me...because I couldn't just endure being with Ramsay..."

"All of this is because of your husband made up a lie, or so I am led to believe. A very convincing lie, however," Jon concluded, looking sceptically at Isabelle as she took another moment to run her hands over the flames in front of her. "But Robb told me all about Ramsay. How he likes to keep House Bolton's tradition of flaying alive."

"More than anything," Isabelle whispered. "But I could have cost Robb this war. He has a family to care for. He has brothers and sister whilst I have nothing but him. I have been selfish to stay with him, and I know that."

"But what would happen if you went back to Ramsay now?" Jon asked her. "He seems intent on having his revenge on Robb. Going back to him would achieve nothing."

"I know," Isabelle said, trying to pull herself together. "I also know that I can't let Robb loose this war. He is good...he has done no wrong...surely the Gods can see that and they won't punish him for it..."

"The Gods are ruthless," Jon spoke. "I realised that when they took my father's head. Good people suffer in this world, but the bad seem to prevail. It is wrong, but it is how it is. The game needs to be played...and only people who play the game can survive..."

Isabelle took in his words and nodded at him. She knew that Robb could not play the game. Robb was brash and acted on instinct. He did not have the mind to survive those who were cleverer than him. But Isabelle would help him. She had lived with Ramsay Snow and she didn't consider herself stupid. She had played him when she could. She had played him to give her an easier life. And that is what she would keep on doing.

"Then maybe it is time to learn the game," Isabelle spoke, nodding to Jon and moving back inside away from the cold.

...

"Do you make every single decision based on what she tells you to do?" Catelyn asked her son the following morning. She took a few seconds to sit down on the bench hesitantly across from her son as he dipped a piece of bread into the stew. He was nervous to meet with Stannis that afternoon, but he knew that he had to eat.

"She has a name," Robb responded. "And Isabelle was right. Ramsay Snow wrote to her last night and said that he had asked Stannis to ally with him. The Dreadfort was a trap. There was nowhere else to go but here."

"You are cornered at the Wall," Catelyn reminded her son, pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders. "If Stannis comes here and refuses to align with you then what do you think will happen? A battle will ensure."

"And that is why I have sent my men West. If anything is to happen here then I have ordered them to do what they can to keep the Stark name alive. I would have you ride with them this morning with Talisa and Isabelle's handmaiden."

"And Isabelle?" Catelyn wondered. "What would you have her do?"

"She is to stay with me. If I do not leave the Wall then I would die and Ramsay would win."

"No," Catelyn said. "This is too dangerous, Robb. What do you think would happen to you? Have you not heard how Stannis burns his enemies alive? He would find the girl and would have her sent to Ramsay."

"She will hide in Jon's chambers until Stannis has gone. He can have my head, but he will take no one else's. Sending Isabelle with you would be foolish. A raven would be received from Ramsay Snow...give me my wife and the war ends...your King is dead...there is nothing to fight for...the men would agree and Isabelle would end up back at the Dreadfort." Robb shook his head. "If you stayed here then Stannis would kill you too, and you know that. You are the mother of a traitor. You need to go and stay alive for the girls and Bran and Rickon."

Catelyn felt her mouth dry up as she heard her son speak. He had given this a great deal of thought. He had planned out what could possibly happen, but he was taking no risks. He could take no risks.

"How can I leave you here?" Catelyn worried. "Knowing what could happen..."

"Because Stannis is my last hope," Robb spoke. "And if he does not want me then you have to live for the family."

"Let me treat with him-"

"-I sent you to Renly last time and I was accused of hiding behind your skirts," Robb shook his head. "Stannis is tougher than Renly. I must treat with him myself, and you must go and stay safe."

"You are my son," Catelyn whispered. "I love you more than anything...leaving you..."

"You must," Robb commanded her. "You have to do this, and I know it is the right decision."

"I only wish that none of this had happened...you could have been happy...Roslin was a sweet girl...you could have had Winterfell..."

Robb ground his teeth together, knowing that his mother meant well by him, but he didn't want to think of it like that. He couldn't think of it like that. He had done what he had done, and that was all there was to it.

"It is easier to blame Isabelle for all of this than to blame me."

"You did nothing wrong."

"I lost the Karstarks," Robb reminded her.

"But you could have kept House Bolton and House Frey if she had never ran away from her husband," Catelyn reminded him and Robb dropped his spoon into his bowl harshly, tiring of arguing with his mother about the matter. He grew tired of their constant bickering about Isabelle, but he would never agree with his mother.

"She did what she did to survive," Robb growled lowly. "It is too late to go back now, so stop speaking of it. It will do no good and it is too late now."

Catelyn looked sadly to her son. "As you say."

...

Ramsay Snow lounged in the seat at his father's desk, his arms behind his head and his gaze on the tent ceiling above him as rain poured down. A small hole in the tent allowed small drops to fall down into the space, the dripping soothing Ramsay but driving Roose insane.

"Has Stannis sent word?" Ramsay asked his father who stood by the table next to the bed he had set up. He poured himself a cup of water before nodding.

"He is meeting at the Wall with Robb Stark this evening," Roose said. "I imagine he will stay with our cause. Stannis is a warrior and he knows that numbers win wars, not foolish boys who make decisions based on love. You should have your wife back by the time the week is out."

"Brilliant," Ramsay spoke with a sinister smile. "I wrote to her last night warning her that there was no hope. Just the thought of having her back is enough to make me contemplate taking Robb Stark's head myself. I think a great feast would be in order when we return to the Dreadfort. No doubt all the Northern Houses would attend."

"A great feast so that you can show off your shiny toy?" Roose checked.

"You cannot deny that Eleanor looks lovely dressed in her fine gowns...having her dangle off my arm...sit by my side..." Ramsay drawled. "Of course her appeal may leave when she begins to birth my children. I hear that women become much uglier."

"I would not know," Roose spoke, "but you are not to whore around with your other girls."

"I do not know what you mean," Ramsay denied.

"I know about one girl...Myranda...she likes to hunt as much as you do," Roose spoke. "I hear she is also rather besotted with you at the Dreadfort. I am shocked Eleanor does not know of her."

"Do you think that I would let Myranda near Eleanor? One is my whore and the other is my wife. There has only been one time when the two have mixed," Ramsay nonchalantly shrugged. "Myranda drinks moon tea. It is nice to know you are concerned, father."

"I am concerned about the reputation you hold, Ramsay. I hear men in the night whisper about you when I am walking through the camp. I didn't realise that you commanded so much attention, but you do. They speak of your wife and her misery. She needs to change that when you have her back."

"One minute you give her reason to be punished, and the next you ask me to please her and be sweet to her." Ramsay complained and Roose nonchalantly shrugged.

"I am Lord of the Dreadfort," Roose spoke lowly. "I am at liberty to change your mind. Do what you will with the girl...make her obedient...but make sure she smiles when she is in public. I am warning you, Ramsay, I do not want a bastard to be born."

"Another one of me?"

"Exactly," Roose muttered back. "I am serious Ramsay. If you want status as Lord Bolton one day then you will as I ask, and you will keep your wife in check too. Lord and Lady Bolton is a prestigious title."

"That it is," Ramsay chuckled back. "I am sure my wife would love it."

"I am serious, Ramsay," Roose warned his son. "The girl is to learn her place and be happy about it. Do what you can or face the consequences."

...

"I am not sitting back whilst you go and speak to Stannis Baratheon!" Isabelle yelled at Robb once he had returned to her and told her that he had sent everyone West. He had not even given her the chance to speak to Talia.

"You are," Robb said. "If he finds you and does not take my side then he would send you back to Ramsay. Is that what you want?"

"If he does not side with you then he will kill you, and what do I have then?" Isabelle wondered. "I would rather die by your side than spend the rest of my life living in fear of Ramsay."

"No," Robb spoke, taking hold of her by the shoulders and shaking her gently. "I will not let you die and I will not let him have you. You will do this, Isabelle."

She gaped. "Are you commanding me?"

"Yes!" Robb snapped. "It is not a question, Isabelle. You will do this and you will keep your life...if anything happens to me...there is money for you to run...find Talia and run from here...build a new life somewhere he won't find you."

"How can you ask that of me?" Isabelle worried from Robb. "How can you stand there-"

"-Because I love you," Robb interrupted her and kissed her firmly on the lips. She kept silent as his tongue invaded her mouth and his hands cupped the back of her head. She bent down in his hold, her hands on his cheeks as Robb continued to kiss her, his body moving against hers as realisation took hold of him that this could be the last time he held her.

She felt her back press against the wall as Robb's lips moved down her throat and his hands roamed her side. It was then when she closed her eyes in pleasure, but that soon disappeared as she thought of Ramsay's hand used to grope at her like Robb was doing now.

"No," she shook her head. "Please...stop..."

Robb listened to her and moved his hand from underneath her breast as he saw her close her eyes and shake her head back and forth.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I couldn't do it...he..."

"No," Robb said. "One day you will forget about him."

"Will I?" Isabelle fretted. "I want you, Robb. I want everything about you, but I freeze as soon as you touch me."

"It will take time," Robb promised her, pecking her on the forehead. "Now go with Jon and stay safe."

"I don't think so," Isabelle mumbled and Robb sighed.

"Jon!" he called out and saw his half brother move into the room, a look of sadness on his face as he did so. Isabelle looked between the two men and dropped her hands to her hips and shook her head at the pair of them.

"You intend to outnumber me?" she checked.

"We intend to save your life," Robb replied.

"Stannis is nearly here, Robb. You need to get going. I'll take Isabelle with me to my chamber and have the door guarded."

"Really?" Isabelle checked. "You are going to keep me a prisoner."

"I am going to keep you safe!" Robb snapped at her, stress coursing through his body as he grabbed hold of her around the waist and tipped her over his shoulder. "Show me the way, Jon."

Nodding, Jon rushed down the corridors with Robb behind him. They were empty as men trained in the courtyard, keeping out of the way. Jon opened the door to his chamber and Robb stepped inside, ignoring Isabelle as she continued to thump against his back. He tipped her onto the bed as Jon spoke with the men at the door, telling them to keep her hidden or it wouldn't be worth their life.

Isabelle tried to stand, but Robb caught her wrists and kept her sat on the edge of the bed.

"No," Robb demanded her. "Stay here."

"Robb," she protested as Robb bent down to kiss her once more and then rushed to the door, Jon slamming it shut behind him. Isabelle moved with haste and banged on the wood to no prevail, sinking down it before her body shook and she longed for Robb to come back to her.

...

"Your wife has been found at Castle Black with Robb Stark," Roose spoke to Ramsay later that night as the two men ate and drank. "He sent his men West to hide with his mother, but he kept the girl. Stannis Baratheon refused to treat with him. Your wife is in irons and on the way back to Moat Cailin."

Ramsay laughed loudly, a smirk on his face as he leaned back in his seat and felt joy radiate through his body at those words.

"I would take her back to the Dreadfort as soon as they arrive," Ramsay said.

"As you say. You can retain being the acting Lord of the Dreadfort until this war is over," Roose granted his son that much and Ramsay nodded in agreement.

"Of course," he said

"Then you shall leave as soon as she is brought here. See to it that you do not mess up this time."

"I shall try."

...

A/N: Thank you to xxxRena, CLTex, Mikki19, DarkG0ddess, Lizzete for reviewing. Do let me know what you think!


	37. Chapter 37

Isabelle's anger only turned to frustration as she heard yells and shouts from outside the wooden door. She took a few steps back and moved with haste towards the bed, one of her hands holding onto the wooden frame tightly as the door burst open and Jon Snow appeared. Isabelle felt like screaming at the sight of blood trickling down his face, his sword gripped in his hand as he rushed over to her.

"We have no time," he spoke gruffly, his right eye slightly swollen and his lip cut.

"Where's Robb?" she worried back, his hand taking hers without a wisp of permission. He pulled her over to the door as she dragged her heels, refusing to go anywhere without Robb. "Jon!"

She yelled his name as they came to the walkway overlooking the courtyard, a great battle ensuing as men sliced at each other, blood sprayed from their bodies and corpses lay on the ground.

"He did not want peace," Jon continued to drag Isabelle from the sight, his free arm now around her waist as he forced her to move. "I don't know where Robb is...he fought...but he fled...I told him I would see you to safety. He was outrunning Stannis's men and fighting for his life, or he would have come back."

"No," Isabelle shook her head as Jon did his best not to tip her over his shoulder and rush out with her. "He can't have...not Robb..."

"He's a good swordsman," Jon promised her, leading her under an archway. "He could have escaped. I have faith in him."

"Where is Stannis?"

"That is no way to speak of your King." A new voice joined the conversation as Jon and Isabelle turned the corner and bumped into a congregation of ten men, a woman clad in red stood at the front, her hand delicately resting on a tall man's arm. Jon pushed Isabelle behind him, holding his sword high to defend himself.

"Give me the girl," the tall man said and Isabelle assumed he was Stannis. He had little hair on top of his head; a stag on fire occupied his armour. His face was stern and weathered; his eyes narrow and his lips plump. "Give me the girl and I will leave the rest of your men alone, Jon."

"A man of the Night's Watch has vows," Jon reminded Stannis. "I cannot let you take her. You do not need her. She is invaluable to you."

"I need her if I am to secure my alliance with House Frey and House Bolton. Only then can I truly march South and take the Iron Throne," Stannis responded and Isabelle tried to push past Jon, falling miserably as he grabbed her waist again and hauled her back to his side.

"What did you do to Robb?" she demanded from him. "Where is he?"

"Dead in the snow somewhere, I imagine," Stannis drawled out. "He ran with his tail between his legs as my men hunted him down. He didn't once think to come looking for you."

"He was willing to help you!" Isabelle roared. "He was willing to stop this madness from continuing!"

"He took away the North from my kingdom," Stannis spat back. "He has less numbers than House Frey and House Bolton. The side with the most numbers wins. That is not this side. I cannot trust a man would threaten to defy me."

"He never wanted to be King in the North."

"And I never wanted the Iron Throne, but it is my duty to take it, much like it was your duty to stand by your husband's side instead of becoming some whore for the Young Wolf," Stannis snarled back to her and Isabelle shook her head, tiring of hearing of what should become her duty.

"You have no idea what he did to me," Isabelle snarled. "None of you have any idea."

"And we do not care," Stannis concluded. "Now, move out of the way, Snow. I don't want to kill you. You have been a good ally to me."

"I will not fight you," Jon responded, "but I will not let you take her either."

"Then what do you intend to do?" Stannis wondered.

"Run," Jon whispered.

It was then when he grabbed Isabelle's hand and began to rush back down the way they had already come. He pulled her behind him as she lagged behind, doing her best not to trip over her skirts. The yells and footsteps from the men chasing them soon ensured as Jon entered the courtyard, taking the wooden steps down to it with haste. Isabelle felt herself loose breath as she remembered her dreams. It was just like them. She was being hunted. She was always being hunted and she wondered when it would end. It had to end soon.

"Duck!" Jon yelled to Isabelle and she did as he did, ducking as arrows came flying past her head.

They made it to the main gate and only then realised there was no escape. The wooden door was down and Stannis's men stood in front of it. The men pursuing them stood behind as Jon backed Isabelle against the side wall, pressing her back flat against it. She whimpered for breath and closed her eyes as Stannis came to stand in front of them.

"It's over, Snow," he warned Jon.

And even Jon knew he was right. He could not outwit all of these men, nor could he lie to himself and believe he could. He threw a look over his shoulder to Isabelle and her palms rested flat on the wall behind her as she felt her body shake with fear. Jon felt guilt wrack through him. He had not been able to do the one thing Robb had asked of him. He had failed his brother.

...

It was a triumphant moment for Ramsay Snow. He had never felt such joy as soon as he saw his wife being pushed into his tent, her hands in irons behind her back. She wore a simple red riding dress on her body, the end of it muddied and some parts covered in dirt marks. A cloak fell from her shoulders haphazardly and her boots were scuffed. Her face was also dirtied, her hair a mess around her head and her eyes were glaring right at him.

"Thank you," Ramsay dismissed the men who had walked into his tent.

They left, only to be replaced by Roose and Stannis. But Ramsay had eyes for only one in that tent. He stood from the chair which had occupied him, making his way, agonisingly slowly, over to Isabelle to stand in front of her.

He reached his hand out to her cheek, only to see her pull away from him. Unappreciatively, Ramsay grabbed hold of her chin and forced her to look him in the eye, his leather gloves cold against her skin. Her eyes were defiant, but he could soon break her again. Her defiance wouldn't last long now.

"She fought most of the way here," Stannis informed Roose and Ramsay. "You'll have your handful with that one."

"Oh, I know that," Ramsay said, a small smirk on his face.

It was then when Isabelle gathered up the courage to spit in his face. Ramsay looked at her threateningly for a few moments, only to raise his hand and slap her across the face, hearing her grunt in pain as she fell to the floor. He moved the back of his hand to wipe away her spit before giving a smile to his father and Stannis.

"I will have fun taming her," he promised them. "And I thank you for returning her to me, my King."

"Yes," Stannis said gruffly. He had never raised a hand to his wife before, nor would he ever. The sight of the girl currently on the floor, her hands chained together and her body unmoving made him wonder if he had done the right thing. "I trust your men are ready to march South, Lord Bolton?"

"Aye," Roose said, moving his glare from his son. "I shall be coming with you, but Ramsay is acting Lord of the Dreadfort whilst I am gone. He and Lady Eleanor shall secure that holdfast and keep an eye on any Northern Lords who threaten to turn against you."

"As you say," Stannis mumbled and then left.

"You do not hit her in public," Roose hissed to his son once Stannis's figure had gone. "What you do with her in private is your own business, but you do not act like that when people are here."

Ramsay didn't bother to heed his father's words; he simply stared at him with his wide eyes and looked to the man he called his father before whispering dangerously;

"Then perhaps you had best leave. You won't like what is going to happen next," Ramsay warned him and Roose looked to Isabelle, the girl now curled on the floor.

"Leave for the Dreadfort as soon as you have finished dealing with her," Roose said. "And keep her in irons until you arrive home. I don't want to hear she has escaped again."

"She won't be going anywhere," Ramsay said, kneeling by her side and grabbing her hair to haul her to sit up. "Will you, my love?"

Roose bowed his head and then left them alone. It was then when Isabelle felt fear. Ramsay moved to stand, grabbing her by the elbow to do the same. He took a few moments to run his eyes up and down her body, taking in every curve of her as he moved to slide the cloak from her figure, his nose pressing against her neck as his hand held the small of her back to keep her rooted against him.

"You don't know how long I have waited for this," he whispered to her. "I thought I had you that night...and then you knight showed up...saving you from me...but he can't save you now, Eleanor. No one can save you, not now that Robb Stark has died."

"He hasn't," Isabelle replied and Ramsay gave her another wet smile before he pressed his lips firmly against hers, his hand roughly holding the back of her neck as he dominated her mouth and she remained mute, doing her best to pull back from him but failing miserably.

"He has," Ramsay responded, wandering over to his desk and picking up a piece of parchment. "This raven flew in this morning. His cold rotting body was found in the snow."

Ramsay had to admit that it had been a nice touch. He had ordered for one of his literate men to write the letter so Isabelle did not suspect it was his handwriting. He held the letter up for her to read and saw her begin to shed tears. Yes, her believing Robb Stark was dead was a very nice touch.

"No," Isabelle whispered.

"Oh yes," Ramsay spoke. "So you see; there really is no one to rescue you. You are mine now."

"I would rather die than live with you!" Isabelle snapped.

"You tried death, twice in fact," Ramsay drawled. "It didn't work out for you."

But Isabelle would do whatever she could to escape. She rushed to the flap of the tent, her chained hands restricting her from running fast. Ramsay grabbed her by the waist with ease, hauling her back flush against his chest as he heard her yell and scream for him to let her go.

"Now, now," he whispered, dropping her to the bed, her stomach pressing against the furs as he collapsed on top of her to stop her from thrashing. Her protests grew weak and her cheek rested flat against the bed, tears spilling from her eyes as Ramsay reached for the laces at the front of her dress, trying to pull them loose.

"There really is nothing more, Eleanor," he promised her, pushing her hair from her face as he lowered his forehead against hers, straining to kiss her cheek. "Robb Stark is dead and you are here now. This war is over for you."

It was as Ramsay continued to tug her dress from her body when she closed her eyes and remembered the Wall. She remembered how easy it would have been to jump from it. Perhaps death was easier. Perhaps death would take her back to Robb and away from Ramsay. Perhaps it was worth it.

...

The small boy had been out riding with his father, both of them doing their best to keep their modest home afloat along with their business of selling oats to the Night's Watch. It was difficult, especially when Winter was coming. But there had to be a way to keep going. Men before had survived the frost and the snow, surely they could too.

It was only when they crossed the bridge did the little boy scream for his father.

"Papa!" He yelled out, pointing underneath the bridge to a figure clad in armour, his body on the embankment by the small stream.

The father climbed down from his horse and rushed down the embankment, human instinct telling him that this man was no threat. He knelt by the body and rolled it over; looking onto the man's dirtied and bruised face. His hair was a mop of flat curls over his head, his armour disfigured and his lips parted as he gasped for breath. He was clearly dehydrated and in need of food. How long had he been there? Obviously there were some broken bones in his body, due to the unnatural position by which he rested.

"Colin, go to your mother and get the cart!" the man demanded and his son did as was told.

It was only when the bruised man opened his lips did he speak, the name wrangled and difficult to hear.

"Isabelle."

"Not quite, lad," the man replied. "Boris, but hang in there and we'll get you some help. No need to fret."

The man closed his eyes again and Boris looked at him, wondering what had happened to him and whether or not he could save him in time.

...

A/N: I wouldn't really kill Robb off! It was bad enough when he died in the show. Anyway, I see a lot of people are reading, but not many are reviewing. It would be awesome if you could let me know what you think! It really would mean a lot. But thanks to Lizzete, xxxRena and CLTex for reviewing the previous chapter!


	38. Chapter 38

Staring out of the window of her chamber in the Dreadfort was enough to make Isabelle open the glass pane and consider chucking herself from the room. Ramsay had demanded for their chambers to be moved to the highest room by the library tower. She had a balcony overlooking the sights past the Dreadfort, mainly to the forest where Ramsay chased girls for fun.

It was almost as though he enjoyed taunting her. He kept her locked in the room, refusing to let her out until she had proven her loyalty to him. So far that was not going so well.

She dared to open the glass pane and step out onto the small ledge, her fingers sitting on top of the stone ledge as she looked down to the ground. It was almost as though Ramsay taunted her by keeping her in the highest room of the Dreadfort which overlooked the forest where she had discovered his secrets.

It was almost as though he dared for her to throw herself from the ledge. He often found her stood there, her hands on the ledge and her eyes cast downwards. She had lost any spark of fight which she had inside of her. She had resisted him for the first few weeks.

She had sat at her dresser and brushed her hair, read books and even tried to sew. He would come in and demand to take her, but she would resist. She would push at him as he thrust inside of her, only when he had finished would she still and turn away from him. He had been the one to bring her meals; no one else had been allowed to see her.

He was doing the exact opposite of what his father had demanded. He was causing more rumours to spread. No one had seen Lady Eleanor, nor did they know what he did to her when he was with her.

But Isabelle failed to care now. She had spent her spare time sobbing over Robb. She had closed her eyes and curled into a ball in the corner, her eyes filled with water and her mind a whirl of fear. She longed to see him again. She longed to hold him to her once more.

And then Ramsay would come in and ruin her dreams.

"Outside again?"

Isabelle didn't even bother to turn around to look at him as he moved to the balcony and stood beside her, his hand engulfing one of hers as he pressed his lips to her knuckles. She didn't look at him, choosing to keep her eyes straight ahead instead. She kept silent as Ramsay moved his hand down her back and groped at her backside.

"I noted your moon's blood started this morning. A pity you are not pregnant yet," he leered in her ear. "Do you think they will be like me? Our children, that is"

Isabelle almost choked at his words as his hand continued to work against her backside. What kind of a father would Ramsay be? What would their children be? Would he corrupt them as he corrupted everyone around him?

Isabelle said nothing, preferring to give him the silent treatment instead of talk to him. It was much easier.

"It would be lovely if they could have a mixture of our lucks...your hair...my eyes...of course they would be your responsibility. I have no time for children," Ramsay nonchalantly replied. "I never have liked them, but you would keep them in their place. I am sure of that."

Isabelle winced as he smacked her backside and wrapped his hands onto her hips and forced her to look at him. She kept still as he backed her against the wall, eventually pressing his hands underneath her thighs to lift her to sit against it. She looked over her shoulder, noting how close to the edge she was.

"Not talking won't help," Ramsay promised her. "I have seen you, Eleanor. The way you stare at the ground...the way you stand here...do you think of taking your own life often?"

"How can I not?" Isabelle replied. "It is either that or spend the rest of my days locked in here as your whore."

"Yes," Ramsay drawled out to her. "But how easy would it be to end it all? Like so..." he trailed off and pushed her slight, only catching her as her arms flailed and he grabbed her waist as she rested her hands on his shoulders. He laughed loudly as she caught her breath, her heart still pounding as Ramsay drew her into his arms and carried her back into their chamber.

He could feel her hot breath against his neck as she gasped for breath and he laid her down on the bed, sitting up and looking down her body as she remained in shock. Her face had turned paler than ever before and her eyes were set on the ceiling above her.

"Did you honestly think that I would kill my own wife in broad daylight?" Ramsay joked and Isabelle kept still. "You would never have the heart to go through with it, Eleanor. I know that and you know that. Accept your situation and things will be easier."

She kept silent as Ramsay grabbed hold of his cloak and shrugged it over his shoulders.

"I'm off to see Myranda," he mumbled. "Fucking you doesn't appeal to me at this moment in time...too messy..."

Isabelle kept still as Ramsay left her and slammed the door behind him. She heard the locking once more before she sat up and slammed the balcony door shut; a part of her wondering if Ramsay was right. She didn't have the nerve to go through with her actions. She never would do.

Ramsay continued to wander the castle until he came to his old chambers where Myranda now rested. Everyone at the Dreadfort knew about him and the girl. They all knew how he kept her secret to his wife; the poor girl had no idea who she was or that she even shared the same enjoyment as Ramsay. Not that Isabelle would care. The girl could have her husband so long as it spared her.

"I suspected you would be here soon enough," Myranda drawled as soon as she saw Ramsay enter her chamber. It was far more than a girl of her position should have, but so long as she stayed Ramsay's favourite then she would be safe. "The maids have all been speaking of your wife's moon blood. Apparently she cannot give you the child you so desire."

"She will one day," Ramsay gruffly replied.

He moved to pour himself a goblet of wine as Myranda stood from her dresser and wrapped her arms around his waist, her hands moving to the laces of his breeches as she pulled his coat out of the way. Ramsay downed his wine as Myranda whispered into his ear;

"Not that she could please you like I do," Myranda whispered. "She will never respond to you like I do. She lies still like a corpse while you fuck her, I imagine?"

"She has started to resemble one," Ramsay mumbled back, pouring another goblet of wine. "There was only one time when she took pleasure from me fucking her."

"Oh?"

Ramsay could hear her jealousy from that one simple word as her hands stopped working at his breeches and he turned around in her grip, looking down at her as he took her by her upper arms and pushed her towards the bed which she had dragged to sit by the wall.

"She had found out all about what I did and had sobbed to me how I could change...I told her not to be foolish...but she begged me...the silly girl took her gown off and begged me to only want her and stop hurting others. And so I had her that night. I was gentle with her the first time...succumbing to her wishes...she's always had that effect on me...the effect to make me do as she asks...most times I try to resist, but sometimes I do it. She moaned my name as I kissed her everywhere...it was only when I had pleasured her once did I realise what she had done to me."

Ramsay flopped on top of Myranda as she looked him in the eye and he moved his hands to her gowns and pulled her skirts up her thighs.

"I realised that she had that ability to make me weak, and that is something I am not. I cradled her in my arms after I had exhausted her and she thought that she had tamed me. She thought that she had won...but part of me...holding her and hearing her whisper my name as she stroked my hair...no one had ever done that."

Shaking his head, Ramsay recalled that night and he pushed himself from Myranda, allowing her dress to fall down her thighs. Had that been contentment? Had he felt contented with her in his hold? Was that what he had felt?

He did not know, but he did remember it had been like nothing before, and nothing like it had happened since. Perhaps if he had not taken her so forcefully afterwards she would not have left him.

"She is a dumb whore," Myranda drawled out. "If she cannot see how fortunate she is to be married to the future Lord of the Dreadfort then she is a stupid bitch. She should worship the very ground you walk on."

"There was a time when she did." Ramsay mumbled out. "And now I can get nothing from her."

"But you have me," Myranda said and Ramsay shook his head. Myranda was not her. How did she hold this power over him? How could he be so weak and easy to manipulate? Eleanor did not want him. She had made that clear, but he wanted her to want him. He wanted her to be more like Myranda...but not Myranda.

"It is not the same," Ramsay said and moved to the door. "It is my wife I want...not you..."

Myranda looked grief stricken as Ramsay stormed from her chamber and made his way down the corridors, fully intending on having Eleanor regardless of her situation. It was her he wanted.

He stormed back through the corridors and to her chamber, pushing past anyone who dared to get in the way. Unlocking the door was an easy task, and he found her sat in the chair by the window, curled into a ball with a book in her lap. She looked up at him and met his gaze, noting that he barely looked dishevelled after he had declared he needed a good fuck.

"I need you to be...I need you..." Ramsay stammered, not entirely sure what he was trying to say to her. Her brows furrowed and her posture tensed as Ramsay advanced towards her, both of his hands resting on the side of her chair as he kept her pinned to it.

"I want it to be how it was," Ramsay demanded from her. "I want you to converse with me, and I want you to move when I fuck you. I want you to stop playing the game of the morbid wife and I want you to sit by my side at feasts, dance with me, and walk with me."

"And do you intend to stop fucking whores or chasing them through the forest?" Isabelle dared to ask from him and he looked at her with a narrow glare. "Too much has happened for me to pretend to be happy with you. You have done too much and there is nothing more, Ramsay. We cannot go back to how we were, so do not even pretend that could happen."

"You are not giving it a chance!" Ramsay yelled in her face and she tried to push past him, dropping her book to the floor.

"I gave you a chance!" Isabelle yelled back. "I gave you plenty of chances when I found out what you were like. I begged for you to love me and only me...I pleaded...or do you not remember?"

Isabelle finally managed to stand, only for Ramsay to grab hold of her wrist and stop her from moving through the room. He caught her other wrist as she threatened to strike him. He kept hold of them tightly as he backed her up against the bare wall by the wardrobe and dresser.

"I stood there and I begged you to love me. I thought that I could change you. I foolishly thought that you would want to be with me...like that first night we met...when I thought that I could love you and forget everything they said about you...when I thought that all you needed was someone to care for you...and then you took me and had me flayed. You flayed your own wife!" Isabelle roared; her anger and hatred coming to the surface all at once. "I did nothing to make you hate me...nothing..."

Ramsay watched as the tears fell from her eyes. He had to admit that he was simply happy he had managed to gain a reaction from her as she tried to push against him.

"I am who I am," Ramsay said in a low and harsh tone as Isabelle slumped against the wall once she realised he would not let her be. She tilted her head back as she gasped for breath. "You cannot change that, nor should you ever be able to."

"It is not normal," Isabelle replied. "What you do to people is not normal, nor is it right. You hurt them for fun...you hurt me for fun..."

"I never hurt you for fun," he denied. "I do what I do to make you see your place, and your place is here, beside me. Your place was never with Robb Stark, nor will it ever be."

"But he loved me," Isabelle pitifully sobbed. "He loved me and cared for me...something you never could do..."

Ramsay kept silent then, gulping as he watched her slowly sank down to the floor, her tears not for their lost marriage, but for her lost time with Robb. She sobbed loudly as Ramsay backed away from her, contemplating what to do and what he felt at the sight of her. He was possessive over her, as any man should be with their wife. She was his, and no one could take her from him. But what was it he truly felt? Why did he sit at the end of the bed and watch her wail, only to hear her sobs die down and then move to pick her up from the floor.

"Don't fight me," he dangerously spoke as he deposited her on the bed and lay by her side, looking to the ceiling. Isabelle remained on her side, looking to the balcony door and wondering whether Ramsay would make a move. He eventually did, only to shut the shutters and block the daylight from entering.

He lit a few candles and peered down to his wife before stripping himself of his clothes. Isabelle sat up then as Ramsay perched on her side of the bed, leaning in to kiss her. She didn't resist him as he moved his mouth against hers, his hands wandering up and down her sides as she choked back a sob once his lips moved to her neck.

"Perhaps I need to show you what it could be like if you did as I asked," Ramsay wondered and Isabelle remained in confusion, trying to pull his head from her neck as she squirmed. Ramsay's lips trailed over her collarbone and he slowly unlaced her dress and slid it from her body.

"No," Isabelle mumbled. "My moon's blood...I don't..."

"I don't care," Ramsay spoke, his lips agonisingly sucking on her flesh as she whimpered, doing her best to push him from her. "I want you more than any whore. I always have done."

He managed to finally rid her of her underclothes before he reached for his breeches. Isabelle tried to clamp her thighs shut, but Ramsay held them open until he was inside of her, filling her until she groaned out.

It was then when he remained still. There were no erratic thrusts or groping. He kept still on top of her, his hands running up her side before he grabbed her hands and entwined his fingers with hers, holding their hands above her head as his forehead rested against hers. She remained still, knowing that moving would only bring him enjoyment.

"No whore can ever make me feel like this," he whispered, his hot breath against her skin. "You are mine...Eleanor...a piece of me...can you not feel it? It could be like this if you remain a good girl. I could please you and make you happy. Is that not what you want?"

She looked him in the eye as his hips moved and her bark arched off the bed slightly.

What she wanted was gone from her. What she wanted was Robb Stark back. How could she do this? How could she so feebly allow Ramsay between her thighs? She should have fought him more. She should have done anything to stop him. But she would not allow Robb to touch her. Not that the thought of Ramsay inside of her brought her any joy. She felt repulsed as she felt him slip in and out of her. She wanted it to end. She wanted all of it to end. Ramsay could bring her no happiness. He never could.

But at that moment in time, staring into Ramsay Snow's eyes and knowing that he could have her punished as easily as he had done, she nodded at him. She agreed to him. He smirked then, slowly moving inside of her as she forced herself to moan. His thrusts remained steady and gentle, his lips attacking any spot of flesh he had access to her as his hands remained with hers.

Isabelle's head turned to the side and she looked at the balcony as Ramsay grunted and did his best to gain a response from her as he neared the end. She kept still, her eyes fixed on the doors which could so easily lead to her death.

It was at that moment when she knew that she had to try and escape again. Robb would want her to carry on. He would want her to try. She could escape, or she could die trying.

...

A/N: Robb will be back in the next chapter! Anyway, thanks to t.k ( I could never kill Robb so horribly, don't worry!), Katheryne B, Lizzete, Kathy (Robb will be back! And I'm not too sure about Sandor/Sanda, I like both characters but I don't think I could to them justice), Dark G0ddess, CLTex, Heartless-Princess33 and xxxRena (still plenty of chapters to come)! It was so nice to read all the reviews! I like writing Ramsay and trying to bring some kind of aspect to him. Hope I managed it okay!


	39. Chapter 39

Isabelle lay on the bed silently, Ramsay snoring by her side once he had finished with her. She had rested on her back, her body bare to the chill of the cold winter air. She finally sat up and noted the blood stains on the sheets in between her thighs. She slowly moved her legs from the bed, her feet on the cold stone floor. She padded to her wardrobe, a sudden pain taking hold of her stomach as she moved.

She suspected it was merely her stomach protesting about being a woman. She doubled over for a moment before opening the wardrobe door to find a nightgown to place on her body. She cleaned herself with the jug of water on the dressing table and sunk down into the seat by the closed balcony doors. She curled her knees to her chin and looked at Ramsay's sleeping form.

How easy would it be to pick a pillow up and smother him? How easy would it be to hit him with the water jug and stab at him with the broken pieces? It would be too easy. Ramsay would almost appreciate it. But she would not make it far before his bastard boys heard him. She knew that he had asked them to guard their room, even when he was inside of it with her.

He had no trust for her and she was not foolish enough to try and escape when they had no trust between them.

...

It was a week before Ramsay allowed Isabelle to leave their chambers, so long as she was chaperoned with him. He held her arm inside of his as they wandered the hallways and he smiled down to her and told her stories, trying to draw a laugh from her or even a slim smile. But he could get nothing from her. She didn't smile, nor did she laugh. She remained stoic, her lips in a firm line.

"What do I have to do?" Ramsay asked from her one day.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, his hands running down her shoulders to her upper arms as he gripped her tightly to him. She kept still, her gaze avoiding his as she peered over his shoulder.

"What do I have to say or do to make you smile, Eleanor?" he wondered and she shrugged.

"Try something funny?" she merely suggested; her brow quirking and her eyes turning to his. She thought he was about to strike her for a moment, his hand moved into the air for a second and he inhaled a sharp breath.

She kept still, waiting for the hit to come, but nothing happened. She watched as he lowered his hand, sweeping his fingers through her hair before he rested it by his side again.

"Just do as you're told," Ramsay muttered through gritted teeth before taking her arm again and wandering down the corridor. It was Ramsay who avoided her stare this time, refusing to look at her as his eyes remained fixed straight ahead of him.

Isabelle was the one who looked up to Ramsay, her orbs wide as she tried to understand what had just happened. He hadn't hit her. Ramsay never had a problem with hitting her before. He used to beat her into submission most times. But here she was, clearly defying him, and he had not struck her. Isabelle could scarcely fathom what had just happened between them. She remained silent as he led her into the Great Hall where they were to eat.

"My Lord."

Isabelle and Ramsay looked down the corridor before they could turn into the Hall. Isabelle's brows furrowed as she wondered who the girl approaching them was. She was of slim build with brown curly hair flowing down her back. A blue dress covered her body, but her laces were hardly fastened tightly. She was showing much more cleavage than necessary. But it wasn't her dress which made Isabelle inquisitive; it was the look on her face. Her blue eyes were set only on Ramsay and her lips were tugged at the sides, her head titled as she rested her hands on her stomach.

"I have not seen you in days, my Lord," she whispered in a sultry voice.

Isabelle glanced between them both, instantly realising what was happening.

"One of your whores," Isabelle muttered.

"I am no whore," the girl snarled back. "Besides, you have room to talk. If I remember you were warming Robb Stark's bed less than a moon ago."

"Enough," Ramsay snarled, glowering between both women.

"And I would be Robb Stark's whore again if I could," Isabelle spoke and she snatched her arm from Ramsay's, looking to the brunette with a satisfactory glare. "You can have him if you want him."

It was then when Ramsay allowed his gaze to follow Isabelle as she entered the Great Hall without him, her skirts swaying behind her. She was dressed so delicately, her pale blue dress fitting her body perfectly and her skirts swirled around her. And then he looked to Myranda. Isabelle had a point; the girl did look like his whore.

"You heard her," Myranda whispered, moving closer to Ramsay as his eyes remained set on his wife as she settled down at the bench and looked to the serving staff who placed meats in front of her before vegetables. "She doesn't want you tonight...come to my chamber...or we can go into the woods..."

Ramsay felt Myranda move her hand to his breeches and he grabbed her wrist harshly. The girl mistook his movement, her smile widening as she leaned in to press her lips against his. Ramsay moved his head out of the way, glowering at Myranda as her smile dropped from her face.

Ramsay's glare was enough to tell Myranda that she should leave. He was rejecting her. He was looking at her as though she was nothing to him; as though their time together had meant nothing. Throwing her one more final look, Ramsay left the corridor and moved into the Great Hall, taking his seat by his wife.

The serving staff left then, moving with haste from the room as Ramsay picked up his knife and fork and began to cut at the meat and the vegetables. Isabelle remained mute as she sat still and heard Ramsay chomp at his food.

"Myranda is none of your concern," Ramsay suddenly said as he picked up his goblet of wine and drained the contents of it with haste.

"I know," Isabelle promised him weakly. And she did know. She had no intention of meeting with Myranda or becoming friends with the girl. "Keep her away from me and there shall be no issue. I know what you do, Ramsay. You whore around and then hunt them. I assume she will be next."

How could he tell her that he had no intention of harming Myranda? She was the one he always ran to when he needed to hunt or when he needed to be between her thighs.

"Mm," Ramsay merely grunted back to her and Isabelle kept silent, her legs folded underneath the table as she picked at her food and ignored her husband.

...

He spent his days on the same bed for over four weeks, his dreams the only thing to keep him company. The family who took care of him fussed around him when they could, but he was mainly unresponsive. Of course they knew who he was. They knew he was the King in the North, but they had no intention of allowing Stannis to take him. The wife could remember how Winterfell had rejoiced when he had been born at Riverrun. The future Lord of Winterfell had been greeted lovingly to his home.

He was a Northman and he was their King. She would see to it that he healed. He would call out for the girl every night, his bed by the fire as sweat dropped down his forehead. Sometimes he would scream her name and it was then when they gave him sleeping potion. His bones were healing and his wounds were closing. It would take time, but he would be back on his feet soon enough.

He scarcely said anything to the family, thanking them for their hospitality before wondering whether or not there had been word about his mother. He then asked about the girl one night; the girl who occupied his dreams. The family had never asked about her, but they knew the stories.

Robb remained thankful that they didn't pry. He didn't know what he would have said if they did. He had been gracious to them and they had answered his questions. He would heal and go, but he would promise to make them prosperous for all of their help.

But it was Robb's thoughts which consumed him. He tried to remember every moment he had spent with her at Winterfell.

"_Robb...your mother will catch us..."_

_Robb ignored her as he kept his arms around her waist, his chin on her shoulder as they looked out of his chamber's window over Winterfell. There were vast fields expanding in front of them, the green lands seemingly rolling on for miles on end. The sight was especially chilling when mist rolled over the hills and clouded the view. _

"_My mother will be going about her duties. She will be too busy to demand my attention."_

"_And your father?" she wondered, her hand moving to stroke his cheek before raking through his hair as he nuzzled against her neck. "You are supposed to be learning how to become Lord of Winterfell. I don't think that consists of being with me."_

"_As Lord of Winterfell I should be able to do as I please," Robb grumbled against her pale skin. She kept still for a few moments, her free hand moving to entwine with his against her stomach. She rested her head against his shoulder, looking him in the eye as she cocked a brow._

"_I do not think that is how being a Lord works," she responded._

"_And what do you think happens?" Robb wondered._

_He knew now why she looked away from him at that moment. He knew why her face clouded and her cheeks paled. She was recalling her time as a Lady. She knew what came with that responsibility. Of course Robb did not know at that time, her face had only been contorted for a few moments before she fixed a smile onto her face. She was good at keeping secrets._

"_I think you look after your people," Isabelle said, moving from his arms and moving to tidy the out of place objects in his room. "I think you host great feasts...and make sure there is enough food for all you people so you do not seem greedy...and then noblemen from the North attend...and the ladies too...perhaps a pretty little Lady for you to dance with? A girl with a fine gown and a radiant smile."_

_He could tell she was taunting him as she picked up her skirts and curtsied in front of him._

"_You would be charming and polite and she would fall in love with you right then. You would spend the night dancing with her until she melted in your arms," Isabelle continued, a gleam in her eye as she spun around the room, her feet moving softly as she swayed up and down._

_Smiling, Robb caught her waist as she spun her back to him. Her hand went to his shoulder and she kept hold of her skirts as Robb continued to move slowly around the room with her._

"_I doubt that would happen," he responded and Isabelle shrugged._

"_You never know."_

"_And you are an excellent dancer. Where did you learn?" Robb wondered, noting how she had yet to step on his feet in the small chamber. _

"_My mother taught me," she spoke, looking over his shoulder for a second. "You seem shocked I'm not standing on your feet."_

"_Merely impressed," Robb responded. "Perhaps one day it will be you I dance with at a feast?"_

"_Don't be silly," Isabelle whispered back._

_He looked at her and wondered why she seemed so downtrodden. One moment she was happy and the next she was saddened. But it was because of him. She knew she could not marry Robb for she was already married. It didn't matter if she was a serving wench._

"_I would love to," Robb gave her waist a squeeze. "Feasts may not be so dull then if I could have you twirling around the floor with me. I would dance until you could dance no more...and then escort you through the courtyard...sit on a bench and speak all night. But we could do it in public and there would be no more hiding."_

_Isabelle gave him a soft smile and stood still as she moved both of her hands to Robb's shoulders. Her fingers splayed over the cold leather which rested there and her eyes widened before she kissed him on the cheek._

"_We should leave before someone really does come and find us," she spoke and took hold of his hand tightly, squeezing his fingers before moving to leave from his chamber. Robb sighed loudly and shook his head back and forth, wondering if he would ever have the courage to tell his mother of Isabelle._

...

A/N: Thank you to xxxRena, CLTex, Dark G0ddess, poeticasylum5 for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think so far!


	40. Chapter 40

"Why does your father return?" Isabelle dared to ask Ramsay as he laced her into a dress, pulling tightly at the strings. He had awoken her abruptly that morning, demanding for her to get ready for the day. She had bathed and brushed her hair to within an inch of its life before Ramsay helped her into one of her fine gowns.

"The Stark forces were discovered just West of the Wall," Ramsay informed his wife. "They were spared and sent home. The Lannisters know Robb Stark to be dead and there is no war. It has finished now, Eleanor."

Gripping onto the bed post, Isabelle's fingers tightly held onto the wooden spindle. She arched her back as Ramsay continued to pull at the strings. Her free hand moved to her stomach, pulling the fabric from her skin so she didn't lose her breath. He finally finished tying the red laces and spun her around to look at him. He eyed her intently, taking in the way her breasts swelled against the dress and how her skirts flared out from her waist.

"Excellent," Ramsay drawled. "Father brings his fat bride home with him. I trust you can show her to their chambers."

"As you wish," Isabelle said.

She had begun the game which Ramsay so desperately wanted her to play. She did as he said all of the time, clinging onto his every word and even watching managing small smiles when the time called for it. He knew no better, but Isabelle knew. She intended to ask her husband if they could travel to Bardtower one day. It was her home and she knew the workings of it. She knew the hidden doors and tunnels underneath the keep.

Ramsay would always have the advantage at the Dreadfort, but Isabelle had the advantage at Bardtower.

"Come along then," Ramsay spoke, holding her hand inside of his. She even managed to force herself to entwine their fingers together. Ramsay looked down proudly at her, a grin on his face as she kept her eyes straight ahead. It was all she could do not to feel disgust at her own actions.

They stood in the courtyard for a while, Ramsay moving so that he could wrap his arms around Isabelle's waist, his chin on her shoulder as his breath hit her neck and his lips sometimes pressed against her pale flesh. Isabelle kept her hand on her stomach, waiting for the gates to open and the men to enter. It didn't take long before the sound of horse hooves hit the floor and men rode through the gates.

Ramsay released his wife and took a step forwards as his father moved to him. Isabelle kept tall, Roose's eyes meeting hers and he wondered what damage Ramsay had caused to the girl. He inclined his head slightly to her and she nodded back, fully understanding that he expected no trouble now that he was back.

"Father, welcome home," Ramsay greeted.

Roose's bride made her way over to them, inclining her head slightly. Walda recalled Ramsay and Isabelle well from their time at the Twins. She remembered how he had leered and made inappropriate comments; something she had grown used to with her father. Of course she knew that the Dreadfort would hold no happiness for her. Her marriage to Roose had been cold and her husband distant. He would use her when he so pleased, but he would never whisper comforting words to her. The bards had been wrong when they had spoken of true love existing.

"Walda, I trust you remember my bastard Ramsay and his wife Eleanor," Roose spoke and Ramsay reached back to hold his hand out to Isabelle. She took it and curtsied for Lady Walda, her eyes downcast.

Ramsay looked between his wife and his father's bride, knowing full well he had gotten the better deal. It was the only thing he did have that was better than his fathers.

"Mother," Ramsay said, almost sickly sweetly. "My dear wife will take you to your chambers."

"No," Roose spoke. "I would speak with you and your wife alone for a while. We have much to discuss."

Isabelle almost groaned as Walda was dragged away by some serving maids and Ramsay kept his hand inside of hers. Roose swept past the pair of them as another figure advanced towards Ramsay. Isabelle would have remembered Locke anywhere she saw him. The man was ruthless and cruel. He was almost as bad as Ramsay to some extent. He was a tall man with a pointed gruff beard, black hair lining his narrow face. His wide eyes were set on her for a moment as she did her best not to look back at him.

Locke was one of Lord Bolton's trusted men, but Isabelle detested the very sight of him.

He grabbed Ramsay's hand and shook it fiercely.

"I hear you took a hand from the Kingslayer," Ramsay spoke with a low laugh.

"How he screamed," Locke responded, moving back from Ramsay. The bastard of Bolton grabbed his wife by the waist again and drew her to his side as they moved back into the castle. "You would have loved it...but I hear you have been quite busy."

Isabelle could feel both sets of eyes settle on her for a few moments and Ramsay patted her waist to draw her attention back to him. She looked between Ramsay and Locke and then to the floor, her hair falling in front of her face.

"My little wife and I had issues...but we've come to work it out," Ramsay spoke. "She's been very sweet recently. I only hope that we can continue like this."

"I heard you're Lord of Bardtower now," Locke continued. "Her parents died."

"Tragedy," Ramsay mumbled. "But yes, I hope to go to Bardtower and visit it soon enough. It will be in need of a new Lord and Lady."

"Hm," Locke responded. "Glad to see she's learnt her place anyway. I imagine it is a shame she hasn't produced you any sons yet."

"We try," Ramsay spoke back. "She will one day. I try not to worry myself with things. She is still young and fertile. One day she will be mother to the future Lord of the Dreadfort and Bardtower. Won't you, my love?"

Isabelle forced herself to smile and then nod at her husband before they entered the room Roose had moved into. Locke bid his farewells and Ramsay stepped into the darkened room before closing the door behind him. Isabelle escaped his grip and went to stand by the fire, breathing in deeply before waiting for Roose to say something.

"I trust you have managed to reconcile your differences in my absence?" Roose checked and Ramsay nodded.

Isabelle continued to stare at the roaring fire, her arms folded over her stomach. She kept silent with her head bowed as Roose stared at her. She took a few moments to compose herself before daring to ask if Lady Catelyn had been found. If she had been found then it was possible that Talia and Theon were with her. So long as they were still alive then Isabelle may have someone to go to.

"Eleanor has been very loving," Ramsay assured his father with a nod. "We have both managed to agree to try and be a better husband and wife. I would like so desperately for us to conceive a child...we could then begin a family..."

Nodding, Roose seemed almost sickened by his son's words as Isabelle took a few moments to glance over at him. Isabelle felt disgusted and repulsed by his speech. She didn't want to be here. She wanted nothing more than to run away. She wanted to leave before Ramsay continued with his lies to appease his father.

"If you'll excuse me, my Lord...husband..." Isabelle suddenly said. "I am feeling rather ill. May I be excused to lie down?"

"Of course, my love," Ramsay said, taking Isabelle by the arms and running his hands up and down them. "Whatever is wrong?"

"I feel rather lightheaded," Isabelle said in a low voice.

"Do you wish me to escort you?"

"No," Isabelle smiled sweetly, kissing him quickly on the cheek as his hand moved to the small of her back and pushed her tightly against him for another moment. "You and your father have much to discuss, I am sure."

"Yes," Roose said. "I shall see you at supper, Lady Eleanor."

"I shall be up soon, my sweetling," Ramsay assured his wife before she fled from the room and rushed down the corridors, ignoring the serving maids who curtseyed in front of her and around her.

She felt tears prickle at her eyes as she thought of Ramsay telling his father of everything that had happened between them. She could imagine him discussing how he had been gentle with her every night, tenderly kissing her and holding her to his body. He had not struck her, nor had he mentioned the dungeon or the whores he chased through the forest. But Isabelle refused to believe he had changed. This was the Bastard of Bolton. He was the same man who had hurt her and seen to it that she had been punished for doing what she thought right. Ramsay could not change and he would not change. He desired her but that was all. He was possessive and that was it. So long as no one had her and she pleased him then she managed to keep his temper away from her.

"Running away from your husband again?"

Isabelle looked down the empty corridor near her old chamber before she saw the sight of the woman she had met the previous day. Rolling her eyes, Isabelle remained stood still as the woman blocked her path to escape.

"Do you forget your place?" Isabelle dared to ask, refusing to care about the fact she sounded pompous. "I am his wife and you are his whore. Who do you think you are to speak to me in such a tone?"

"His whore?" the girl checked. "He does everything with me."

"And when was the last time he shared your bed?" Isabelle wondered. "Believe me, you can have him. I scarcely want him holding me as he fucks me with no care in the world. But it seems he doesn't want you. Did you not understand that the other night?"

"I could tell him," the girl warned Isabelle. "I could tell him what you just said-"

"-Move out of my way," Isabelle demanded. "Your jealousy is wasted on me."

Myranda stepped aside as Isabelle shoved her way past and continued towards her own chamber. Myranda would see to it that the girl suffered somehow. She would make Ramsay see that. He had to see that.

...

"I heard a rumour, your Grace."

Robb looked up and shifted around on the chair he sat on in the corner of the small cottage. His bones were slowly healing and his bruises fading. He knew that he had lost his army. The North had been secured by Tywin Lannister and Robb had no men left as they had all dispersed home. He had not seen his mother, or Talisa, or Theon. He worried about them all the time.

"You can call me Robb," he muttered back. "In fact...please...just Robb..."

The kind young woman handed him a bowl of rabbit stew before she poked the fire. She had a plump face and long dark hair which hung down her back in straight waves. She usually wore simply blue gowns with a long cloak. Her face looked older than her age, but Robb suspected the strains of trying to maintain a household did that to her.

"Then you have to call me Mary," she warned him. "You've been nothing if not courteous since my husband brought you here."

"Only because you kept me safe and allowed me to heal. I will never forget that kindness."

"Nonsense," the woman shrugged and sat down in the chair next to Robb's seat. "You are a Northman...a good man too...we would not hand you over..."

"And I thank you for it. What rumour is it you heard?"

"Lord Bolton has returned to the Dreadfort," Mary spoke to him. "The war is over and the North is secured. Everyone believes you to be dead. Your mother has disappeared and there has been no mention of your siblings...but...there has been no word of Lord Bolton's daughter in law."

"Isabelle," Robb spoke her name.

"Lady Eleanor," Mary responded. "Everyone knows...well...everyone has an opinion about what happened between you two. It is not in my place to ask."

"No," Robb replied. "The rumours will be true, I trust. She was posing as a maid at Winterfell after escaping her husband. I met her there but he took her back. I know people say she cost me this war...that I should have sent her back to her husband...but I saw the scars on her body. I heard the screams from the nightmares which kept her awake. I could not send her back."

"But now she has gone back," Mary said and squeezed Robb's hand tightly. The woman had been bold occasionally, sensing that Robb was only a young man. He was a confused young man who longed for his home and family. He did not deserve to be stuck in this war.

"The Lady Eleanor is said to be happy with her husband. People talk of how she laughs and smiles with him. Apparently the pair of them are inseparable."

"It is for show." Robb confidently spoke. "Isabelle knows what she needs to do to survive. I shall go for her as soon as possible."

"With whose men?" Mary wondered. "The Dreadfort is impenetrable."

"I will find a way," Robb replied, looking to the flames as his face remained scrunched up. "I have to."


	41. Chapter 41

The feast was everything that Isabelle had expected it to be. She had been seated at the head table in the darkened Great Hall. Her husband sat next to her, and his father on the other side. Walda Frey had tried to talk with Roose Bolton all night. She even, feebly, tried to get him to dance with her. The great families from the Northern houses were all in attendance, sitting at the benches and laughing and drinking. Not one of them seemed to remember that they had held an allegiance to Robb.

It made Isabelle angry beyond belief.

"It seems that being the Warden in the North agrees with you, father," Ramsay suddenly spoke, looking around Isabelle to his father. "Perhaps now it is time to honour the agreement we made?"

"I shall write to Tywin Lannister in the morning," Roose said and Isabelle looked at Ramsay as she picked up her cup of wine and pressed it to her lips.

"My father has agreed to legitimise my claim to the Dreadfort," Ramsay informed her, cutting into a sausage as he did so. "You would like, wouldn't you, my love? You would no longer need to carry my bastard name. You could be a true member of the Bolton family then."

"Yes," Isabelle whispered to him.

"And Lord and Lady to Bardtower. I was thinking of taking you back home. Your people need to see that you are still alive and well," Ramsay spoke. "And I think you have earned your freedom. You have yet to bear me an heir, but we shall work on that."

"We try enough," Isabelle said and Ramsay finished chewing on the sausage he had been eaten.

He quickly kissed her on the cheek as a roar of laughter erupted and Isabelle's gaze scanned over everyone in attendance at the feast. Ramsay laughed loudly as two men bumped into each as they danced with their wives. He draped his arm around Isabelle's shoulders then, his chair right next to hers.

"Do you often think of home, Lady Eleanor?" Walda suddenly asked of Isabelle. She looked to the woman as Ramsay's grip on her shoulder increased and Isabelle winced before looking to Roose and then to his wife.

"I think it is only natural for us to think of our home," Isabelle spoke. "We spend our childhood there...the place where we are innocent...before war started and before we learnt of our duties. So yes, I do think of home, but do I miss the Bardtower? No. I do not miss it, but I do miss how simple childhood was."

Ramsay listened to her speech and the smiled, his other hand moving to run down her cheek and entwine in her hair. He searched her gaze as she searched his, doing her best not to feel repulsed by him as his arm slid from her shoulders and his fingers curled around her neck.

"I wonder if it will be too hard for you to go back home," he said. "Your parents never did truly love you. You were a daughter and not a son. I was a bastard and not a trueborn. We are so similar, Eleanor."

Resisting the urge to snap at how she was nothing like him, she slowly moved her hand to take hold his wrist which held her neck. She gave a sad smile before bowing her head, her hair falling into her face. Ramsay continued to stare at her, his hand holding hrs as he stroked her hair from her slim face.

She took a few moments to remember her parents. Although there had been no love lost between her and her parents, she still remembered what the rumours. The rumours that her husband had been the one to murder them. It was her memories which kept Isabelle from believing Ramsay's pretence that he was trying to love her. It was true that he doted upon her recently. He had kept her close by his side during their walks around the Dreadfort, he had joked with her, but he always snuck out in the middle of the night.

He always waited until he thought she was asleep and then he left. She had awoken one night and slipped into her nightgown. Opening the balcony doors, she could see a torch in the courtyard. He was rushing through the courtyard with her holding his hand. She giggled loudly as they went, her hand moving to his upper arm and stroking it lovingly.

"Perhaps we should dance. You love to dance, don't you, Eleanor?" he checked and offered her his hand as he stood up.

She took hold of his hand, her fingers slipping into his as he led her to the cleared area where people danced. She rested her fingers on his shoulder, his hand holding hers in the air as his free hand took her waist tightly. She moved with him slowly around the floor, her gaze set over his shoulder as she went.

It was only then when she caught sight of Myranda, a small smirk on the girl's face as she danced with some form of squire who was doting upon her. But she only had eyes for Ramsay. It was him who she was trying to make jealous.

"The past few nights I have awoken and you have not been by my side," Isabelle dared to speak to her husband and he looked at her with a cocked brow. "Have you been with her again? Chasing girls through the forest?"

Ramsay wet his lips before increasing his grip on his wife's waist. Why was she asking him something she already knew? Isabelle did not know, but she did know that her husband looked angered with her.

"Myranda understands me, Eleanor," he whispered, bending down to whisper in her ear. "You sit there and dote upon me, but you do not know what it is like to be me. She understands. I have not bedded her, but I have spent time with her."

"And how long will it be until you bed her?"

"Are you jealous?" Ramsay retorted and Isabelle resisted the urge to snort or scoff. Neither would do her any good. She kept silent, her feet moving on their own accord as she went.

"I thought that we were trying for a family," Isabelle decided to speak. "We can hardly try if you return to bedding whores."

"Then I shall not bed her if that makes you happy," Ramsay concluded. "I suspect I shall once you are pregnant. I have heard that women do not look as lovely once they are pregnant. Your teats become larger, as does your stomach."

"As you say," Isabelle merely muttered and then she spotted something out of the corner of her eye.

For a moment she wondered if it could be so. She wondered if her eyes were deceiving her. Ramsay continued to twirl her around the floor as the cloaked figure left the room, but Isabelle knew that she had to follow it.

But he had died. He had died and it was impossible. Her imagination must be playing up again. She had to be seeing things that she wanted to see, and how desperately she wanted to see him once more. But she had to check. She had to be sure that it was not true.

She had to be certain that it was him. Looking to Ramsay, she smiled widely and kissed him on the cheek.

"I will be back in a moment, my love," she said. "I simply need to freshen up. Perhaps we can retire from the feast early?"

She knew adding that one would earn her his favour. He grinned down at her and then pressed his lips to hers before his hand groped at her backside and she moaned into the kiss for full effect. Stepping back, she ran her hand down his cheek before turning to walk away.

She left the Grand Hall and wandered down the empty corridors, her hope slowly fading as she struggled to see any sign of anyone. Shaking her head and scolding herself, Isabelle turned on her heel before she felt arms around her waist, dragging her heels on the floor as she was pulled into the nearest room. She fought in the man's grip, doing her best to free herself from whoever held her.

It was only when he released her and she spun around did she feel every single emotion rush through her body at once. She looked up to his scared face, his eyes were set on her and his beard was wilder than ever, almost blending in with his hair.

"Robb," she whispered lowly and flung her arms around his neck.

He grunted lowly as he wrapped his own arms around her waist and heard her begin to cry into his shoulder which was covered in heavy furs to keep him covered and warm, as well as disguised. Isabelle would recognise him anywhere, but he looked a mess and nothing like his former self. There was nothing about him which screamed King in the North anymore.

"They told me you were dead...Stannis had killed you..." she fretted, pulling back to look his body up and down, her hands running everywhere.

Robb caught her wrists in his grip, holding them tightly as her concerned gaze met his and he bent down to kiss her chastely.

"I managed to escape with some broken bones and cuts...a farmer and his wife looked after me whilst I mended. I do not know where my mother is, nor have I heard word. The men I sent to protect her abandoned her as soon as Roose Bolton was declared Warden of the North."

"How badly were you injured?" Isabelle's concern raged on as Robb's hands ran down her cheeks. "How did you sneak into the Dreadfort?"

"One question at a time," Robb urged her with a sad smile. "I have healed, but I scarcely have any strength. Sneaking into the Dreadfort was easy with a feast raging on. They say it impenetrable, but that is not so when you are believed dead and pose as a lowly squire."

She kept silent for a few moments, her hands still working over his cloak and a sad smile passed over her face. He had come back for her. He had done what he had promised to do and had come back for her. She did not think she could have loved him as much as she did at that moment in time. The sight of his face, alive and well, was enough to make Isabelle swoon with happiness.

"I love you so much," she spoke. "But you have to go before someone catches you."

"No, _we _have to go," Robb emphasised to her. "You are coming with me, Isabelle."

"The forests are Ramsay's hunting ground," she replied. "We could have a ten minute head start, but he would catch us up."

"That is why I have devised a plan," Robb said, pulling a small glass bottle from the confines of his cloak. "Give this to your husband tonight and he will sleep until the morning. Make sure he is in bed before the feast ends and people begin to wander around the Dreadfort."

"I already promised him that we could retire early," Isabelle said and Robb nodded at her, his finger curling under her chin to force her gaze to his. She looked at him with worry for a few moments before nodding. She would do it.

"I will wait by the stables for you," he promised her. "I will not leave with you...I hate that I cannot take you with me right now..."

"No," Isabelle replied, taking the bottle from Robb and slipping it down the front of her gown. "I will do it. Just try not to get caught. Gods...I can't believe you are really in front of me...here and alive..."

"I wouldn't die without marrying you first," Robb promised her, knowing that time was ticking and he had to hide before something happened to him. He bent down to kiss her again, closing his eyes as his mouth moved over hers and she wrapped her hands around his upper arms.

"Go," he said gruffly as his lips pulled back from hers. "I will wait."

Nodding, Isabelle kissed his cheek and left the room, taking a deep breath before she went to find Ramsay and escape his clutches once and for all.


	42. Chapter 42

"You were gone a while, my sweet," Ramsay spoke once he saw Isabelle again.

She took a moment to run her hand down his arm, her fingers moving into his as her chest heaved and her heart pounded. This could be it. This could be everything that she had hoped for. Perhaps fate had a peculiar way of bringing them back together. That was all she could hope for, anyhow.

"I went to freshen up and I needed some air. I didn't realise how warm it was in here," she forced herself to smile at him as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her through the crowd.

He noted Myranda stood watching him and so did Isabelle. She knew that she could not have her ruining the plan which was to be put into place. Isabelle leaned closer to Ramsay, her mouth near his ear.

"Tell her not to come tonight," she urged him softly. "Tell her that she has no place with you tonight."

Ramsay bent down to look at his wife, her hopeful face enough to make him nod his agreement to her. He bent down and pressed his mouth over hers, a loud cheer erupting from the room as he did so. Isabelle kept her arms around his neck, wondering where Robb was as Ramsay's hand cupped her backside. She knew that she would have to act fast if she was to escape him.

"Go to our chamber and wait for me," Ramsay patted her rear again. "I will deal with Myranda."

"Of course," Isabelle whispered and rushed off from the hall.

She raced down the corridors, her hands holding her skirts as she took the steps with haste. She had to prepare everything before her husband returned to her. She slammed the door shut and pulled out the small glass bottle which Robb had given her. Uncorking it, she poured the liquid into a cup and then added wine to it.

She poured herself a cup and deposited the empty bottle in the bottom of her wardrobe. Unlacing her gown, she slipped it off of her body and kept her underclothes on. She picked up the unlaced cup and sat with it on the bed, sipping it in the hope she would gain courage. It took her a few more moments before she finally found a comfortable position.

"Myranda should not be bothering us for the evening," Ramsay spoke as soon as he opened the door.

"Good," Isabelle replied. "There is a cup of wine on the side for you. I thought you might want some before we retire for the evening."

"Aren't you very dutiful recently?" Ramsay uttered the rhetorical question.

"I am trying," she promised him. "I only hope that I am not making it difficult for you. What point is there in us fighting when we can get along so splendidly?"

Ramsay picked up his cup and sat on his side of the bed, holding it in the air before smirking at her. "I think I can toast to that."

And so they did. Ramsay took one sip of his wine and Isabelle resisted the urge to frown. She knew full well that he needed to drink the entire cup for it to have any effect. She shifted on the bed, sitting on her knees; she leant forwards to kiss him softly, her hand moving to his hair as Ramsay grabbed at her waist and hauled her closer to him. She pulled back after a moment, doing her best to look sultry as she peered at him whilst sipping her wine.

Thankfully he mimicked her movements and drank more of the wine. She tossed her empty cup to the floor and inhaled sharply, her cheeks red with fear and apprehension.

"I think Myranda could be a threat to us," Isabelle finally declared and Ramsay rolled his eyes.

"She is no threat."

"You do not see how she speaks with me. She talks to me as though I am nothing but your own whore. I am to be Lady of the Dreadfort. She is the whore in this relationship," Isabelle said and her words had the desired effect on Ramsay as he continued to down the wine without a second thought.

"Maybe once you were my whore," Ramsay said and his words rang true with Isabelle as he finished his wine and moved to take hold of her. He shifted so he was laid on the bed and she was straddling his waist tightly. "But you are now my wife. You have been dutiful; as a wife should be...but you are mine...no one else's..."

She noted how his lids began to droop and his grip slackened on her thighs. She watched on for a few moments before he finally fell to sleep and she glowered down at him. Her hands moved to his chest and then roughly took his chin. She turned his head to the side, her teeth ground together as she hissed into his ear.

"I will never be yours."

...

Robb knew that time was passing quickly. Time was going too fast for his liking. Fear rose inside of him at the thought of Isabelle not making it back to him. He had a small dagger hidden on his body, but he had nothing if Ramsay found him. He only hoped that he would not see him. He kept hidden at the back of the stable near the saddled horse he intended to steal. Laughter and yells could not be contained from the Great Hall.

It was only when footsteps approached did Robb step out of the shadows and see her rushing into the building. Her breath was short and her cloak was flailing behind her. It took her a few moments to recognise him before he held his hand out to her and she wrapped her bare fingers into his gloved ones.

"Did you do it?" Robb checked with her.

"He is sleeping soundly," she said. "We don't have much time. We need to go now if we are to be far enough way before someone notes my absence."

"We will be," he promised her, grabbing her waist and hauling her onto the horse. She placed one leg either side of the creature before Robb climbed to sit in front of her.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she kept her head pressed against his back with her hood up. She closed her eyes and felt one of Robb's hands squeeze hers before they began to move. She kept quiet as they moved through the courtyard and towards the gates which were guarded by drunken men. They snuck through without difficulty and continued on their way. Isabelle took a deep breath as the forest came into sight and her mind raced as she thought of all the women he had chased through the forest. It took a few moments for her to recover enough to look up and into the darkness they rode through.

"Do you know the way?" Isabelle dared to wonder from Robb.

"I have a vague idea. Everything is easier in daylight, however," Robb mumbled and Isabelle kept silent, her arms tightening around Robb's waist and causing him to wince from his unhealed bruises. Isabelle kept silent for a while, simply looking to the sky in the hope that the moon would present itself from the trees it hid behind.

That was the part which caused Isabelle to feel fear inside of her. Ramsay knew the woods better than anyone. He could find them even with a night's head start. Fear radiated through Isabelle at the mere thought. She wanted nothing more than to leave the forest and everything in the North. She would go South. She would go as far as Pentos if it meant safety.

The morning sun finally rose and Isabelle had moved to sit side saddle in front of Robb. They still rode as hard and fast as possible, but the forest never seemed to end.

"He had taken another whore during my time back with him."

"And you are surprised?" Robb checked with her and she shrugged; her cheek against the cold of Robb's furs.

"I asked him to stop seeing her. I asked him not to let her ruin what he had, and he listened to me, Robb. He actually listened to me. It is strange, but it is almost as though he changed...but deep down I know that is not possible." Isabelle mused and Robb kissed the top of her head, his chin resting on her curls for a while after.

"He is gone," Robb promised her. "We ride to the Wall and we hide there. He will never think of coming to the Wall. I am presumed dead and my family...I do not know where they are, Isabelle."

"They shall be alive," Isabelle promised him meekly. "Sansa and Arya...your mother...Bran and Rickon..."

"We cannot know for certain," Robb said. "I have no army to take back Winterfell or continue this war. I have no one to fight for me...I cannot help but wonder what hope there truly is."

"Sh," she urged him in a soft voice, looking into his eyes which appeared to water. She moved her hand to run through his curls and he forced a smile onto his face for her. She kept quiet for a few moments as Robb took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles.

"But I have you back," Robb whispered. "I have you and we can get through anything. I know we can."

"We will find your family again. I don't know how, but we will," she promised him. "Ramsay is nothing now. He may come after me, but he will not find me. Not this time..."

"Good, because we have other things to worry about."

"Like?"

"I heard a rumour whilst I was with a farmer and his wife. They were talking about some new threat approaching Westeros; something that has not been seen in years...well...many did not think that they existed. I do not particularly know what to think myself."

"You are worrying me now." Isabelle mumbled and Robb looked her in the eye before giving his one worded answer to her.

"Dragons."


	43. Chapter 43

Isabelle sat silently underneath the tree with Robb next to her. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulders and she kept one of hers around his waist. Her other arm was flung over his stomach as he rubbed a hand up and down her back. Isabelle did not know how to feel about the news Robb had imparted with her.

Daenerys Targaryen was heading towards Westeros with an army and three dragons in tow. She didn't know how long it would take for her to arrive, but Isabelle feared the moment when she set foot on the solid ground. Dragons were not to be trifled with; Isabelle knew that much. But Daenerys was the least of her concerns.

Even though she was with Robb, back with the man she had truly loved, she couldn't help but think about Ramsay. She couldn't help but allow her mind to wander back to how he had been acting for the past couple of months. It was almost like he had changed. Isabelle knew that not to be true. She had witnessed him sneaking out and hunting in the forest. She had seen him with Myranda.

But he had never harmed her. He had only touched her with gentleness and possessiveness. His hands were soft against her skin and his words were always loving. Isabelle didn't think it possible, but it had been.

"You have been quiet for a while," Robb suddenly said, pulling her out of the daze she had previously been in. "What is it that worries you?"

"Everything," Isabelle mumbled back to him and he kissed the top of her head.

"He can't-"

"-He could get me back," Isabelle replied, tiring of Robb's assurances. "And if he did then I doubt he would hurt me...he has not hurt me in months...I did as he asked and he was pleasant. He wanted me to love him. He wanted me...and I tried to do as he asked...it even got easier with time when he grew to care for me again."

Robb almost shook with anger at her words. He pushed her from him and moved to stand up. Isabelle's orbs widened and she wondered what he was thinking about. He brushed his hands through his hair, his eyes on the ground.

"Do you wish that I never came for you?" Robb snarled.

"No, of course not," Isabelle said and she pushed herself to her feet, the tree trunk behind her helping her to steady herself. "I love you, Robb."

"Then why do you keep trying to defend him? Do you not remember everything that he had once done to you?"

"I remember well," Isabelle said. "I worry about you, Robb. I worry what he would do if he found you again...if he didn't let you get away...you would not be in risk if I had stayed with him, and I would not have been in risk. That is all."

Robb marched back to her and took her by her shoulders, pressing her back against the tree.

"He has had control of you for too long. He's manipulated you into thinking that he cared for you. You know better than anyone what he is like, Isabelle. You know who he is and what he is. Why do you insist on mourning over him?" Robb snapped at her and she did her best to push his weight from her.

"I do not mourn him!" she yelled back and Robb took her cheeks into his hands and looked her in the eye. "I love you, Robb."

"And I believe that," Robb promised her. "I just do not want to listen to you mourn over your husband. He mistreated you and he ruined you. I would never do anything like that to you. I love you, Isabelle. I wish that I could wipe him out of your life. I wish that I could make you forget him..."

"No," Isabelle shook her head at him. "It is you I want, Robb. Ramsay...I don't know what I think anymore...these past few months have been horrific...I never forgot you. I thought you dead, but I never forgot you."

"Then be happy just with me," Robb urged her.

"Robb," Isabelle sighed loudly. "You don't know how happy I am with you. Please, can we stop speaking of Ramsay now?"

Robb looked apprehensive as she wrapped her arms around his neck and longed for him to take hold of her waist. He did so and sighed, wondering what was going through her mind and how he could stop her worry.

...

"She ran away in the middle of the night, and no one saw her?"

Ramsay's words were dark and dangerous as he stood in the Great Hall and listened to his father. He had taken a seat at the table, lounging back in it as he held his chin in his hands and thought about what he had just heard.

"That is what I can make of it," Roose drawled to his son. "She has outwitted you too many times now. She has made you look a fool and you have no control over her. I thought that you had tamed her."

"I thought so too," Ramsay replied. "She did everything that I asked. She spent her nights warming my bed and her days laughing and joking whenever we spent time together. I thought I had her."

"You thought wrong," Roose said; his brow arched as he did so. "Losing your wife for the...what is this? The third time? Men will mock you."

It took a moment for Ramsay to look up and over to his father. He placed his feet on the table and his hands behind his head.

"What do you suggest I do?" Ramsay asked. "You suggest I do not go for her? She will not have gotten far. She is alone and in the forest."

"She knows this forest better than you, I suspect," Roose spoke. "I have tired of her now. She is nothing but a pain. She had shown House Bolton no respect and she is more trouble than she is worth. If you do go out to find her, then you will not bring her back here alive."

Even Roose's words seemed to shock Ramsay. He stood up, his palms resting on the table in front of him. "You would have me kill her?"

"I would have her die in a tragic accident," Roose replied. "We will find you a new bride who will obey. Eleanor has had her chance. The girl's death will be no loss."

"No," Ramsay said the one word and Roose looked to his son.

"What do you mean no?" Roose asked.

"I mean no," Ramsay responded. "I will not have her harmed. I will not kill her. I will not have anyone else hurt her. She is my wife."

Roose took a moment or two to comprehend what he was hearing. Even then he could not believe it. His bastard enjoyed nothing more than hunting women in the forest, but Roose despised that. But now he was giving his son the chance to do what he wanted with no disgust.

"Is this love?" Roose scoffed. "We both know you are incapable of love. You had that girl flayed. You raped her. And now you stand here and tell me you care for her welfare?"

Ramsay ground his teeth together as he heard his father. He took a moment to consider glowering at him before he left the room. He did not need to answer to his father. He would not answer to his father.

He wandered down the corridors before he felt someone cling to his arm. He stood still and looked down to the woman who held his arm. She laced her fingers into his before her free hand ran down his other arm.

"I have not seen you since the feast...I heard about your wife...I warned you about her, Ramsay." Myranda's voice grated against Ramsay and he did his best to shrug her from him. "She has gone and is probably dead. Why do you keep worrying over her?"

"Not now, Myranda," Ramsay demanded from her.

"Why?"

"Because I need to go and find Eleanor," he said and finally moved her from him. "Now go and scrub floors or do whatever it is you do."

Ramsay continued on his way whilst Myranda remained where she was. She felt her eyes grow damp and disgust ran through her. He had rejected her. He had rejected her and ruined her. Why? All she had done was love him. She loved him more than he knew. She loved everything about him and now he was far too interested in a blonde whore to notice her. That was something Myranda was not willing to put up with.

...

"Are you sure we can rest here for the night?" Isabelle checked as they approach a small cottage and Robb kept hold of her hand whilst his other held the reins of his horse.

"The farmer and his wife took me in. I will ask them, but I think they would not say no," Robb promised Isabelle and they walked down the pathway.

The door to the cottage suddenly opened and a small boy came rushing out, a bucket of dirty water in his hands. He looked up and noticed Robb, dropping the bucket to his feet and then bowing at the waist. Robb smiled to him and ruffled his hair whilst Isabelle kept her hand in his and then wrapped her arm around his arm.

"My King," the boy said.

"Colin," Robb spoke back. "Is your mother here?"

"She's inside cooking stew," Colin said and then looked to Isabelle. "Is she your Queen? The one they say you will marry and take-"

"-One day," Robb interrupted before the boy could continue. "This is Isabelle."

"Pleasure to meet you," Isabelle curtseyed and offered Colin her hand. The boy bent down and kissed her knuckles timidly, a blush rising on his cheeks as he did so. Robb laughed and Isabelle stood tall again.

"Colin! Have you not emptied that water?"

A woman came outside, a towel in her hands before she caught sight of Robb and the blonde girl with him. A smile came over her face and she moved over to Robb, her arms wrapping around him tightly. Robb hugged her back like she was his own family and he pulled back to look her in the eye.

"I am afraid I need your help again," Robb said and the woman shook her head.

"Nonsense," she promised him. "You are welcome here. You and Isabelle."

"Ah, yes," Robb said as he stepped back and took hold of Isabelle by the hand again. "Isabelle, this is Mary. She looked after me when I was injured. Her and Colin, her husband."

"Colin is travelling to sell some crops or something," Mary waved a nonchalant hand. "And we have heard all about you, my dear. I am glad that Robb found you."

"As am I," Isabelle said. "It is nice to meet you."

"Oh, do come in," Mary said. "Don't stand out here in the cold. Come along...Colin...empty the water and take the horse to the stables. I should have enough stew for this evening."

Isabelle kept hold of Robb's hand as he led her into the small cottage. They spent the rest of the evening having simple conversation about nothing of importance. Mary was hospitable, giving the two of them privacy as she told them that they could have Colin's bedroom for the evening. Robb had left Isabelle to bathe in the metal tub whilst he helped Colin in the stable. He enjoyed spending time with the boy. There was something about him which reminded Robb of his own brothers.

"Still bathing?" Robb checked once he saw Isabelle in the tub.

Her hair clung to her body and her skin was clean. He knelt by the tub and Isabelle didn't bother to flinch at him seeing her naked. She almost struggled to care. She moved her hand to the side of the tub for him to take hold of. He did so and she saw how he was sweating. He wore a simple shirt and breeches, his boots falling from his feet. His curly hair stuck to his face and sweat trickled down his cheeks.

"What have you been doing?" Isabelle wondered and Robb kissed the back of her hand.

"Colin needed help with some heavy sacks. I am not quite as strong as I used to be." Robb said.

"Should I be concerned?" Isabelle joked with him and he shook his head.

"I am able to protect my princess from the bad lord who would steal her," Robb said and Isabelle cocked a brow. "Colin," he explained. "That boy seems to think life is a fairytale."

"It can be for him. Don't ruin him."

"I didn't," Robb promised her. "I told him that I was stealing the princess, but I would make her my queen. The bad men never win and we would live in a castle and spend our days surrounded by children and grandchildren."

"Hmmm," Isabelle sighed contently as Robb moved his fingers over her cheek. "I struggle to think of anything that sounds better than that."

"Nothing sounds better than that," Robb responded and he kissed her on the cheek. "Now hurry up and get out of that water. I'm sweating more than I care to admit."

Isabelle laughed as Robb pulled his shirt over his head and draped a towel over the side of the tub for Isabelle. She stood and wrapped it around her body. Robb took her waist and hauled her dripping body from the tub.

"You do know how to ruin a romantic moment," she commented and Robb kissed her chastely.

"No I don't," he mumbled back and held Isabelle against his body as she ran her hand down his bare chest. He shivered under her fingertips and she kept still, merely content with having Robb back with her again.

...

A/N: Thank you to ZabuzasGirl, xxxRena, CLTex, DarylDixon'sLover, Katheryne B for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	44. Chapter 44

"What does she have?" Myranda demanded once she saw Ramsay saddling his horse later in the day. He wore his cloak over his body and his riding boots on his feet. Two swords were sheathed and his face was cleanly shaven.

"What does she have that I do not?" Myranda demanded from him and Ramsay pushed past her to continue saddling his horse. He ignored her before she took his arm and forced him to look at her, demanding his attention.

A low growl escaped Ramsay at the sight of her and he almost felt the urge to strike her. He resisted it, but he knew that she was pushing him to some form of limit. It almost made him want to strike her. He could scarcely deal with her when she was being so needy and clingy to him.

"She is my wife."

"She does not want you. Has she not proven that to you by now? She has run away _again_." Myranda drawled. "I am here and I want you. Why can that not be enough? Why is it always her?"

"Because she is my wife!" Ramsay snapped and grabbed hold of Myranda by her shoulders. "She is the one I want, not you."

"You almost sound as if you love her," Myranda said, a smile of disbelief on her face before Ramsay let her go, pushing her to hit the wall. She stumbled and caught her footing before she made contact with the ground.

"Do you?" she pushed him. "Do you love her? Do you know how to love?"

"And is that what you think now?" Ramsay checked. "You think I am a monster who is incapable of love?"

Myranda scoffed and shook her head. "I do not know what you think sometimes. But I do know that your whore will be the death of you. She will never want you like I want you. She will never understand the fun that can be had in life. What can she bring to you?"

"Enough," Ramsay responded and climbed onto his horse. "I have my men ready. Do what you please, Myranda, but do not bother me again."

"Your father will kill her," Myranda quipped back. "If you bring her back here then he will kill her if you do not. You know that."

Ramsay said nothing. He merely allowed his horse to continue moving from the Dreadfort. He ignored the stares from people as he went, refusing to let them bother him. He did not care what people thought. All he cared about was having his wife back with him.

It was a strange thing which Ramsay felt. He couldn't describe it as love. He had never truly known love. His father had never shown him it, and his mother had simply urged him to take his claim as the heir to the Dreadfort. Who had ever loved him? He could instil fear into people. He knew how to do that with ease. He had even done it to Eleanor for a while. But then she had stopped fearing him. She had stopped fearing him and had rebelled against him.

She had told him what he truly was, but her words did not matter to him. He could ignore them.

But he could not ignore the desire that built inside of him when she had been so defiant. He adored her when she was meek. He had grown to see some form of happiness inside of her. She had laughed and spoken with him for the past few months as though she truly did love him. She had withered beneath him as he took her. He had done his best to be gentle and kind. He had done that and he had seen a different side to his wife; a side which endeared him to care for her. It almost made him not want to see her hurt. The thought of raising a hand to her eventually repulsed him.

Why else did he chase the other girls? He had urges, but he would not use his wife for such urges. He had never cared for a girl as much as he did for his wife.

Closing his eyes, he recalled the time they had wandered through the Dreadfort together and he heard her laugh heartedly once. She had almost doubled over and gasped for breath at his sarcastic words. He had remained stood, a smile of glee on his face as she continued to laugh. Had it all been for show? Had she faked every minute with him? He had taken her by the waist then and continued to walk with her until they reached the dining hall for their evening meal. They had drank and laughed. Eleanor had even pecked him on the cheek.

But he knew now that it had all been for show. Everything that she had done had been an act. If it had not been then she would not have escaped. It was that part which angered Ramsay; the part of him which wanted desperately to cling onto the hope that maybe someone could want him.

...

"How does your hair grow so long?" Robb asked as he sat on the bed and Isabelle sat in between his spread legs, her back to him as he ran a brush through her damp blonde hair.

"It is a nightmare to control," she complained to him. "I had meant to have someone cut it before you decided to steal me away."

"Well, I do apologise," Robb said and dropped the brush beside him.

She stood up and dropped to sit down on the edge of the single bed with Robb, noting that he still had a towel around his neck and his curly hair was still dripping with water droplets. Isabelle took it upon herself to pick the ends of the material up and move it over Robb's head, drying off his hair.

"Are you sure the Wall is the safest place for us to go?" Isabelle suddenly asked Robb. "Ramsay knew that we hid there before."

"What would you have us do?" Robb asked her back and she shrugged and bit down on her bottom lip. "We cannot stay here with Mary and Boris. If Ramsay even stumbled across this place-"

"-I know," Isabelle interrupted him. "But the chances of him stumbling across this place are slim. It is off the beaten track and he does not know I am with you."

"It is asking too much of them, Isabelle," Robb shook his head. "I would love to stay holed up here until the war is over, but I do not want to put them at risk."

"Fine, but I do not think the Wall is the place for us," she remained adamant on the matter.

"And when have your instincts ever been wrong?" Robb mumbled, knowing that she had always been right about everything before.

He took a moment to reach for her hands and pull the towel from them. He quickly kissed her on the lips and rested his forehead against hers. It took a few moments for him to note that she wore a nightgown which was too long for her, but he struggled to care. He slowly urged her to lay on the bed, his weight hovering above her body and he ran his hands down her cheeks.

"Are you sure here is the right place?" Isabelle mumbled as Robb rained kisses down her neck and she groaned at the motion. "Colin and Mary around in the next room."

"I am not intending on making you do anything you don't want to," Robb promised her and she shook her head, cradling his face in her palms.

Her eyes bore into his and he noted a different gaze of intensity inside of her. He had never seen it before.

"I want you," she promised him. "After everything...I only wish that I had wanted you before..."

"Are you certain?" Robb spoke in a soft voice and Isabelle nodded.

"Always." Isabelle promised him.

It was slow and steady. Robb took his time in undressing her, his lips kissing every inch of skin he could find. He heard her moan and groan as he finally revealed her naked form. She was apprehensive for a moment, but then she helped Robb rid himself of his breeches, her hands trailing over the planes of his chest before he laid her back down on the bed. His lips worked over hers as his hands ghosted down her body, gently touching her instead of groping. She did her best to keep quiet as Robb entered her, the feeling of him overwhelming. He looked her in the eye for a moment before he rolled his hips and brought out another moan from her.

He could feel her body arch against his as he brought her to the edge and spilled his seed inside of her. Only then did he allow his body to rest on top of hers, her hands running through his hair as he withdrew from her and grabbed the blanket to cover their bodies.

Isabelle remained sweating as Robb wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she placed her hand on his chest.

"Gods," she mumbled. "We really did wait too long."

"Um," Robb uttered back and she leaned on her elbow to look him in the eye. "That was nothing like it was with Roslin."

"Robb," Isabelle complained, flopping onto her back. "You're not supposed to bring up your wife after we just had sex."

"But it was a compliment," Robb muttered back to her and she rolled her eyes, a mischievous smirk on her face. "Besides, don't tell me you weren't thinking the same about Ramsay."

"I wasn't thinking about him," she lied. "I was thinking how wonderful it was to make love with the man who I love."

"And I love you too," Robb whispered and kiss her on the lips once more. "I love you more than I could ever imagine, but I do want to know where you think we should go if the Wall is not safe?"

"I don't know," Isabelle admitted, pulling the blanket up to her chin. "All of the North men know who you are and House Bolton now occupy Moat Cailin so we cannot go South."

"Dilemma," Robb mumbled, too tired to think about it at that moment in time. He needed to sleep after days travelling. "I will think of something in the morning. I promised Colin I would help him in the farm."

"I should help his mother," Isabelle declared. "Perhaps I can make breakfast to let her know how thankful we are for everything."

"Have you ever cooked a day in your life?" Robb's brow furrowed as he asked her the question and she rolled her eyes at his comment. He truly was obscene sometimes.

"I was a maid-"

"-A serving maid," Robb quickly clarified before she could say anything further to him on the matter. "Do they ever cook?"

Isabelle propped herself up and onto her elbow at his comment, her hair falling down her cheek. Robb reached out to twirl a strand of it around his finger.

"Of course we helped when we needed to," Isabelle responded. "You truly are ridiculously looked after."

Robb scoffed and closed his eyes, not deeming to respond to her statement. He shifted on his back and grabbed Isabelle's waist, hauling her body close to his. Her legs weaved around his, the back of her foot running up and down his prominent calf.

"Robb."

Robb's eyes snapped open as he heard Mary at the door. She knocked and then entered, noting the young couple entwined in the sheets. Her face was one of distress, her body covered in warm cloaks and she held a pile of other clothes too. Robb sat up, the sheet pooling to his lap. Isabelle clutched at it, her hands holding it to her chest to protect her modesty.

"What is it?" Robb worried.

"Boris just returned...the Wall is under attack...White Walkers. He saw them with his own eyes. They are coming...we need to leave before they can reach us..."

"White Walkers," Robb echoed and Mary dropped the clothes onto the end of their bed. "How far are they?"

"Far enough for us to go," Mary responded. "Please come with us; it is too dangerous to stay here."

"Of course," Robb replied. "We will be ready in a moment."

Mary nodded and left them be, rushing to ready her son and the horses. Isabelle looked to Robb as he unfolded the clothes and handed her a simple gown.

"Dragons are coming," Isabelle whispered as she changed. "Do you think she can stop them?"

"I have no intention of being here to find out," Robb muttered back and kissed the top of her head, his mind turning to Jon as he did so.

He only hoped his brother had survived.

...

A/N: Thanks to xxxRena, ZabuzasGirl, Kate, Guest, Rose, DarylDixon'sLover and CLTex for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	45. Chapter 45

The journey south was a quiet one. Boris had told them that they were to stay off the Kingsroad. Apparently men marched North to the White Walkers, but Boris had no intention of staying and finding out what was going to happen. Robb agreed with him completely, choosing to travel away from danger in comparison to towards it.

"The Lannister forces have been defeated," Robb informed Isabelle as they walked along the stream where they had made camp for the night. "Boris told me that Stannis helps at the Wall, but Lord Bolton refused to send men. Daenerys has dragons and after that they say she will take the Iron Throne and destroy those who do not bend the knee. House Frey have also declared themselves bystanders in the war."

"And you are shocked?" Isabelle scoffed, her arm lacing into Robb's arm. "Your wife is still just that, Robb. If Daenerys does take the Iron Throne...then...what do you think will happen?"

"I will ask for her to annul our marriages," Robb declared. "I would also ask for House Bolton and House Frey to be brought to justice. We can never live our lives with them still in power. They will still haunt us."

"I suppose so," Isabelle agreed with him. "But we will always live in fear so long as they live. I would want Ramsay to be sent to the Wall-"

"-The Wall?" Robb scoffed at the idea. "I would ram a sword through him myself if I could. He would never go to the Wall. The bastard is not right in his mind, Isabelle. Do you truly think that he would rest without you?"

Biting down on her bottom lip, Isabelle shrugged at Robb's words. She didn't truly know herself what ran through Ramsay's mind. Sometimes it was for the best not to guess. It was for the best to keep quiet and let him say and do what he wanted, regardless of how much it hurt her.

"No," she agreed with Robb. "Perhaps we should stop speaking of such matters? Daenerys needs to triumph first."

"She will," Robb said, knowing full well that it was the only solution which would allow him to have a chance of marrying Isabelle. He could not abandon that hope. It was the only hope which was left inside of him.

"Do you think your mother made it South? Or Talia and Theon?" Isabelle worried and Robb bowed his head, his eyes on the ground beneath him as he thought about his family.

He couldn't help but feel like a failure. He had done nothing he had set out to do. He had been unable to stop his bannermen rebelling. He had failed to bring his sisters back home. His best friend had taken Winterfell and lost his brother, whilst his other brother was a man of the Night's Watch and in danger from powerful creatures. His mother was somewhere and his father was dead.

"I hope that they are safe," Robb mused with her and she stood still before wrapping her arms underneath his.

She rested her hands on his shoulder blades, doing her best to comfort him. Her lips pressed against his neck before she rested her forehead on his shoulder. Robb kept his cheek on the top of her head, his hands running down her back as the sun slowly set over them. He watched it fade with intrigue. He wondered if he had ever truly appreciated how beautiful it really was to see it lower down in the sky. Its glimmer radiated over the stream and the hills. It would have been a perfect moment if nothing threatened to ruin it.

"We'll make it out of this," Isabelle whispered. "We have come through too much not to make it out of this now."

"I hope you're right," Robb mumbled against her head.

"I usually am," she smiled up to him and he couldn't help but smile back down to her.

He pressed his lips against hers and she ran her hands through his curly hair. He looked nothing like a Lord of Winterfell at that moment in time. He wore simple clothes on his body, the boots scuffed and dirtied beyond belief. His beard was unruly over his face and his hair was down to his shoulders. She did suspect that she looked as much of a mess as he did, but she didn't care.

"We should go and offer Mary help with the meal," Isabelle suggested to Robb. "No doubt she will want some help if Colin and Boris are hunting for rabbit for tomorrow."

"They're always prepared," Robb agreed gruffly.

The couple wandered over to where Mary was knelt, skinning the rabbit that had been caught the previous day. Isabelle knelt beside her and Robb next to Isabelle.

"Is there anything you need doing?" Isabelle asked and Mary shook her head, beaming over at the couple.

"Nothing whatsoever," she promised them. "You two don't worry yourselves. Colin and Boris should be back soon and then I can start to cook and we can eat. The cart is big enough for you two to sleep on if you wish. Colin brought blankets."

"We're not tired," Isabelle lied to her. "We just want to help you. You've been so kind to us."

"Well, I could hardly be cruel, dear," Mary smiled and Robb scratched the back of his neck for a few moments.

"Mary!"

Looking up from the cooking, Mary saw her husband rushing towards them, his son on his back as he did so. The three around the small fire stood up as Boris looked at all of them, thankful that they were all safe. It took a few moments for them to realise that the two males weren't injured as they approached them.

"What is it?"

"We were hunting for the rabbits and stumbled across a bunch of dead men in the forest. They were carrying banners, but whatever killed them didn't care about them."

"Could it be the Targaryen girl?" Mary wondered and Boris shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know what it could be," he whispered, "but we need to go before it finds us. I'd advise you not to look as we go past. It isn't a pretty sight to behold."

"Come on," Robb grunted, stamping the fire out as he took hold of Isabelle by her arm and they set about packing everything into the cart. Mary and Colin sat in it whilst Robb took Isabelle onto their horse.

They rode with haste, moving through the forest. Isabelle wondered if Colin and Boris had been certain about what they had seen. She didn't see any sign of life. It was only when they came to the clearing did Isabelle see what they had spoken of. She saw the bodies scattered on the floor. The banner of the Kraken sat proudly against a grey backdrop. Isabelle wondered what House Greyjoy was doing. It was only then when she saw another banner.

House Bolton.

And then she saw him.

Robb failed to notice as Isabelle pushed herself from the horse, her feet on the ground as she stumbled towards his body.

...

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Had he died already? He had thought that he was still breathing, but only just. He could smell the blood which seeped out of his body. He could feel it trickling down his skin and unconsciousness taking hold of him. Why should he not be dead already?

But he knew better than that. He knew deep down that he was still alive and he really was looking at her. She stood before him, her hands bunched into the red skirts she wore as her eyes widened in what he assumed to be horror. He had seen it on her face countless times. How many times had he been the one to put the horror there? No doubt she was disgusted by the state of his body.

He hadn't dared to look down at it. It would do him no good.

Tentatively, he moved his arm, trying to stretch it and move it upwards and towards her. He silently urged for her to do something; to take his hand into hers, to kneel down and run her hand down his cheek. He needed something.

But she did nothing.

She remained rooted on the spot. It was only then when he saw the figure loom over her shoulder. Squinting against the setting sun, he almost felt the urge to try to stand and grab his own sword and slice the man in two.

Robb Stark held her shoulder, whispering something into her ear.

She shook her head and then she knelt down beside him. He rolled his head to the side to look at her and she could do nothing but whisper;

"Ramsay."

He moved his fingers once more, scraping them over her thigh and covering her gown in his own blood. It took a few moments for him to open his eyes wide enough to make sure he wasn't dreaming. She remained still, her spin stiffening as she felt his hand on her.

"Eleanor," he croaked out her name. "You left me...you left me again..."

It took Isabelle a moment to gulp before she answered him; "You tried to ruin my life...just because you weren't horrid for the past few months...you were horrid to others. You ruined their lives...the women you chased..."

"Because I couldn't hurt you," Ramsay wheezed for breath, moving his fingers in a feeble attempt to grab hold of her hand. "I didn't want to hurt you. I...things changed between us...and then you ran away..."

Shrugging, Isabelle didn't know what else she could say to him of the matter.

"Too much happened and you know that. You never changed. You had Myranda," Isabelle spoke and Ramsay rolled his eyes at her name. Even in his dying moments he couldn't escape her. He shouldn't be too shocked.

"Who did this to you?" Isabelle finally asked him.

"Brotherhood without Banners," he spoke back to her. "They are still around and loyal to the King in the North."

He couldn't see Robb anymore, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to know that Eleanor had given herself to him. He didn't want to know anything of the matter.

"Was it all a lie?" Ramsay wondered and his hand finally moved into hers.

She kept still as his clammy fingers wrapped into hers and she found herself unable to move. She took a moment or two before her other hand moved onto their entwined ones. She continued to stare down to him. How could she say that it was all a lie? She knew what he had done. She knew everything about him, but there he lay. She had never seen him look so vulnerable before. She had never seen him long to hear her say the right answer.

Her mouth dried up and she couldn't help herself.

She shook her head.

Gods she knew it was wrong. She knew that he had killed more people than she could count. He had caused the loss of her child. He had done so much wrong, but she could not tell him that as he took his last breaths. She was either a fool or a coward. She didn't know which.

"You were kind the last few months," she admitted to him, her mouth still dry and her hands clammy. "The past few months you were like...like when I first met you...when I first wanted you..."

"And I thought that we could be good together," Ramsay said and then coughed loudly. "I tried...because you were mine...and you were so...so loving...like never before..."

"Because you never gave me the chance to love you before," Isabelle spoke. "I would have loved you, but you couldn't change. I tried to change you. I tried to do that."

"You tried to tame me...I know you tried...but no one could do that...not even you..."

"No matter how much I wanted to at the beginning," Isabelle whispered and Ramsay moved his other blooded hand to her cheek, his fingers running down her pale skin to cup her cheek.

"I...you...you're here..."

"I'm here," she said through pursed lips and she noted Ramsay's eyes slowly flutter shut.

"Till the end?" he checked. "I know that I am dying. I know that there is nothing else. I lost you...and I couldn't bring you back..."

Isabelle kept silent, any scathing remark held on her tongue. She remained silent and Ramsay's hand dropped down from her cheek as he took some of his final breaths.

"Did I ever love you?" he wondered, more to himself than to her. "Was it love?"

"It might have been something," was all Isabelle could say before she felt the grip of his hand loosen. It was only then when he searched her eyes for one more time did his grip on her hands fall. She dropped his hand and saw him take his final breath.

Ramsay Snow had died.

He had died questioning whether or not he had ever loved his wife. Isabelle felt numb at the sight of him before she felt a hand grip her shoulder. She moved her hand to hold onto Robb's before she stood up and he wrapped his arm around her waist. He nodded sternly at her and she looked at Ramsay as Robb urged her to walk away.

Robb kept silent, wondering what was running through Isabelle's mind at the sight of her dead husband. She kept silent as Robb helped her onto the horse. She didn't cry, she didn't shout her joy. She was numb. She felt nothing. She didn't know whether that was right or wrong.

...

A/N: So, this story is coming to a close, and Ramsay has gone. It's been a strange thing writing his POV, but I do hope that you have enjoyed it. Thank you to xxxRena, meme, ZabuzasGirl, CLTex, Rose, DarylDixon'sLover, Rose for reviewing the previous chapter. Do stay tuned!


	46. Chapter 46

Isabelle had sat against a tree that same night. She had her legs curled up to her chin, her arms hooked around her knees. Robb had watched her for a while, but she had said nothing to him. He had heard the conversation she had held with Ramsay as he took his last breaths. She had said nothing of the matter, nor had Robb pushed her to. He knew that she had spent years with him, living with him and been tortured by him.

"She held his hand," Mary whispered, doing her best to comfort Robb as they ate another rabbit and Isabelle remained away from them. "She held his hand because he was dying. The girl is confused."

Robb gulped and chewed on the rabbit, shrugging as he did so. "It was the way he looked at her...and she looked at him...as if she could forgive him for everything he had done just because he was dying. It was the way she pitied him and tried to see some good in him...when there is no good in him. He did not deserve that."

"Perhaps not," Mary agreed. "But she gave it to him."

"He has spent years manipulating her. He ruined her and she was strong enough to rebuild her life. I don't want to see her crumble again," Robb mumbled. "But I don't want to talk about it with her. She'll only get upset."

"You need to talk to her," Mary urged him. "You should at least make an effort to find out what she is thinking. A problem shared is a problem halved usually."

"Not when the problem is Ramsay Snow," Robb grumbled and then sighed as Mary gave him a stern look he had grown accustomed to seeing, but usually from his mother.

He finished eating his rabbit and then grabbed an apple; knowing that Isabelle had to eat something. He tossed it in his hands before moving to sit next to Isabelle. He sank down the tree trunk and outstretched his legs in front of him. He held the apple in his palm and looked to her, finally noting how his stare drew her orbs to his. She looked down to the apple and took hold it, playing with it in her hands.

"How do you know that you love me?"

Her question took Robb off guard and he kept his hands entwined in his lap, looking to his fingers as he thought about the answer.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think I can define what love is...but I would do anything for you...to keep you with me...to keep you safe...and not being with you is unbearable. It is almost like I can't...I don't know, Isabelle. I just know that I do love you."

Nodding, she looked to the sky and Robb did the same before daring to move a hand to her arm, clasping his fingers around her skin lightly.

"He questioned whether or not he loved you," Robb responded and Isabelle nodded. She knew that he had heard their entire conversation. She had been there, but she had done her best to ignore Robb's scathing glare.

"He wasn't born evil, was he?" Isabelle checked. "No one can be born evil...not even him..."

"But he was evil," Robb quickly contradicted. "He never loved you, Isabelle. You were not his chance for redemption. Did he not prove that when he flayed you? Did he not prove that all of those times he forced himself inside of you?"

"I know what he did," she replied through grounded teeth. "But I also know that he...he did change...when I did as he asked...he tried to be kind...and he was..."

"He should have loved you for who you are," Robb quickly threw back to her. "He should not love you because you cling onto his arm and laugh when he expects it. That is not love, Isabelle. He was possessive of you. He saw you as nothing but his possession. Do not cling onto the memories of him."

"I'm not," she lied.

"Then why are you sat here mourning for him?"

"I am thinking," Isabelle hissed.

"Then stop," Robb urged. "Gods be good, Isabelle. The man was a rapist and a murderer. He does not deserve your thoughts, regardless of how well he treated you in the past few months."

"I know!" Isabelle snapped, standing up and looking down to Robb. "I don't need you to yell at me every minute about what he was. I know, Robb. Could you just leave it alone? You really are beginning to test my patience!"

Robb stood then as Isabelle dropped the apple to the floor and continued to glower at him. Her anger was a thing which Robb had never truly seen before, but he had an incline that he would not like to see it again.

"And you are testing my patience," he promised her. "I stand here...living and breathing...completely in love with you, but you would rather sit and mope over what could have been if your precious Ramsay was a different person and had been good to you from the start. Is that what you truly want, Isabelle? You want to go back?"

She moved then and slapped him across the arm, her hands balling into fists as she pushed against his chest and Robb was shocked by her brute force.

"I love you!" Isabelle roared. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"You scarcely show it," Robb replied as he caught her wrists and stopped her from hitting him. "He has such a strong hold over you that I wonder whether or not you can ever let him go...whether you are strong enough..."

Isabelle snatched her wrists from his grip, her eyes wide and Robb wondered whether or not he had truly upset her. Her emotions seemed to be ranging more than he could comprehend.

"Whether I am strong enough?" she choked back to him. "Perhaps I may not be as strong as you. I can win no wars...but I am no fool...when he told me that you had died I thought about throwing myself from the tower. I spent days thinking about it...but then I wondered what you would have said. You would have told me to keep going and to try to escape, and I did. I was stronger than I thought."

Robb inhaled a sharp breath as Isabelle simply stared at him, not too sure what more she could say on the matter. It took her a few moments to collect her breath and she did her best not to cry in front of Robb. Now was not the time for her tears. She didn't know how much more she could handle of Robb yelling at her. They had never truly fought before. They had bickered, but he had never looked angry at her and she had never felt angry with him.

"Just don't stand there and spout how weak I am...because I am not...I cannot be weak..." she whispered and Robb sighed.

He took a step forwards, holding his arms out and Isabelle dodged around him, not wanting to hold him at that moment.

"I know that you are not weak," he promised her, "but you cannot keep letting Ramsay win, even now when he cannot get to you."

"He's had me for so long," Isabelle whispered.

"And he's manipulated for that equal amount of time," Robb replied and finally he grabbed her by the waist. "That is all he has done. He has manipulated you for his own gain and never did he truly love you."

Shaking her head, Isabelle sniffed and ran a hand over her eyes. She closed her orbs for a second as Robb kissed her tenderly on the head.

"You do not hurt those you love intentionally," he mumbled and she knew that he was right.

There might have been something inside of Ramsay that did care for her, but she knew that he could not have loved her, not in the same way Robb loved her.

Robb dared to move his arms to fully encircle her waist, holding her tightly to him and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He bent down and nuzzled against her shoulder, kissing the bare flesh he found there as her hands stroked through his curls and she did her best to forget about Ramsay and everything that he had done.

"We'll move on," Robb assured her. "But I never want to see you look at me as angry as you just did...it's worse than my mother..."

That earned a small laugh from Isabelle and Robb smirked, pulling back to see her lips curl. It was a sight he never tired of seeing. He slowly took hold of her hand inside of his and kissed her knuckles. Nodding, she pecked him on the cheek.

"I do love you," she continued and he nodded.

"I know," he promised her. "I never meant to say otherwise. I think we were both angry."

"Fine," she muttered against his neck as she hugged him again. "We should go back to Mary before she becomes suspicious about where we are."

"As you say," Isabelle mumbled, but they didn't gain a chance to move anywhere.

A loud roar echoed above them, the noise harrowing and scathing to their ears. Robb instantly kept his grip on Isabelle and she looked to the sky, the sight above them in the clouds enough to draw gasps from the pair of them. It was only when the sky illuminated in a blazing orange did they realise that they were not dreaming. The creatures had come and gone quicker than a flash of lightning. But they knew what they had seen.

Dragons.

...

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed on Ramsay's death! Thanks to WhatGoingOn, Kate, Lizzete, ZabuzasGirl, Dark G0ddess, MissyMeth1992, Meme, xxxRena, Rose, CLTex and DarylDixon'sLover for reviewing the previous chapter. Do let me know what you think!


	47. Chapter 47

The death of Roose Bolton's bastard had travelled fast. Isabelle and Robb had taken to hiding inside of an inn whilst madness in the North raged on. They had made it through Moat Cailin, the castle had been undefended and empty. Everyone was fighting in the North against the White Walkers. Robb almost felt guilt that he was not there to help, but he had gone through his fair share of wars. He had no intention of risking his life when he had Isabelle to keep safe.

"Is there any news?" Isabelle wondered when Robb retrieved them a jug of water one morning.

Colin, Mary and Boris had taken the room next to theirs. They had now spent two days in an inn, using what little amount of coin they had left. Robb had thanked them for the chance to sleep on a bed, but they had assured him that it was nothing to fret over.

Robb closed the door and locked it again, not too certain who was lurking or would dare to attack them. He looked to Isabelle as she lay on her stomach, a white sheet provocatively covering her naked body. The sheet rested against the small of her back, the scars on her pale skin prominent. But Robb did not care for them. He had spent the past day in bed with her, kissing her and holding her to him.

"Roose Bolton knows his bastard is dead," Robb said and poured a cup of water for her.

She took it from his hands and sipped delicately on it.

"And?" she urged Robb.

"And they say that he sees it as a blessing. His wife is with child and he worries what would have happened to that child had Ramsay been alive. As much as he hates the prospect of a young lord ruling after him...I think he is happier with another legitimate son."

"I would suspect so too," Isabelle continued the conversation, placing her cup on the bedside table as Robb sat on the edge of it and looked to her.

"The war rages on." He muttered. "White Walkers and Dragons...it is like one of Old Nan's stories."

"Hmm," Isabelle agreed, her head moving to the pillow as she felt tiredness run through her veins. She closed her eyes and Robb chuckled, flopping onto his back to rest besides her. She opened her eyes then and Robb smirked down to her.

"Tired, my dear?" he teased her.

"You have been tiring me out," she complained. "I thought that you had lost your stamina, but you seem to have found it again."

Robb chuckled and moved his arm underneath her shoulders. She adjusted her position and dropped her head onto his chest, her hand on his shirt covered stomach.

"Don't tell me that you don't love it as much as I do."

She scoffed. "I think you love it a bit more than I do."

"No doubt," Robb muttered and rolled on top of her. She laughed loudly as he began his attack once more and took her for the umpteenth time that day.

...

"_You shouldn't worry yourself, Eleanor."_

_She looked up and to the sound of the voice. It took her a few moments to locate him, finally seeing him sat at her dressing table. He leant forwards, his hands clasped together as he watched his wife in the tub. She was scrubbing at her skin, the water lapping around her chest. He had no doubt that it was cold by now, but his wife was still sat in the tub as though it held the warmest water. _

"_Myranda has not troubled you recently, has she?" Ramsay continued to speak._

"_No," she shook her head. "She makes snide comments whenever I pass her, but I shall learn to tolerate her if you refuse to throw her out."_

_Ramsay scoffed and he stood up from the seat. He wore a simple shirt and his breeches were tucked into his boots. He was cleanly shaven after that morning. He settled himself down by the side of the tub, his hands holding onto it. Isabelle gulped, knowing that she had to play her part well. Moving one of her hands from the tub, she rested her fingers over Ramsay's. He entwined his hand with hers and kissed her knuckles slowly._

"_Throwing her out is not an option, Eleanor," Ramsay whispered, his voice lowly dangerous. _

_She took a moment to bite down on her tongue. She knew it would never end well if she dared to challenge him. She had lost Robb, but she would not lose her own life; not to him. Robb would be so angry if she did._

"_As you say," Isabelle whispered back, a taut smile on her lips as Ramsay kissed her deeply._

_He then dropped his hand into the water, his finger swirling it as his other hand left Isabelle's and brushed her hair back from her face. His gaze was intense, almost too much for her to handle. She took a few more minutes to sit in silence, merely watching Ramsay as he took his time to caress down her down to her neck._

"_I heard her the other night...with you..." Isabelle said, hoping that her trick would work. "She is quite the screamer."_

_Ramsay frowned at hearing his wife, but he kept still, his fingers dancing along her collarbone. If Isabelle had any hope of manipulating Ramsay then she had to get him away from Myranda's clutches. She was too involved with him and enjoyed the same things he did. If Isabelle could stop her then she could. Perhaps she could save some girls' lives in the process? Besides, she would never get to Bardtower if Ramsay had reason to stay at the Dreadfort._

"_Did she wake you?" Ramsay asked, blatantly unconcerned. _

"_Kept me awake," Isabelle muttered back. "I thought that things had changed between us, Ramsay."_

_He looked into her eyes then, wondering what she was trying to do. He kept still, his hand now resting on the top of her breast._

"_They have," he responded._

"_Then why do you spend time with her? I thought that you were trying to get me with child...I cannot see that happening so long as she is here..." Isabelle responded and Ramsay cocked a brow. "I had been thinking of going to Bardtower for a while. The people there need to see that they have a Lord and a Lady...of course...I am not too thrilled with the prospect of returning there. It never felt like home."_

_Ramsay gave a small nod and squeezed her breast, watching as she pushed herself further against his hand, almost longing for his touch. _

"_I shall think of it," Ramsay responded to her. "In the meantime, I shall try to get you with child now if you so wish?"_

"_It is dinner soon," Isabelle shook her head, taking his hand from her breast and kissing his palm. "We should dress before your father thinks something suspicious is happening."_

Isabelle snapped out of her thoughts as Robb resumed his place next to her. They had gone down to the inn to eat that evening. The room was crowded as men sang and drunk and ate. Robb had picked a table in the corner and out of the way of everyone. He placed the jug of wine on the table and sat on the small bench next to Isabelle, his arm wrapping around her waist.

"The innkeeper said that the meal should be ready soon enough. I told them not to worry. The inn is busy."

"That it is," Isabelle smiled and kissed Robb on the cheek.

He smiled down to her before whispering into her ear, his voice low and sultry;

"How sore are you?"

She sat up straight and felt his fingers tickle against her waist. His lips slowly latched onto her neck and she suppressed a moan.

"Why?" Isabelle whispered back to him.

"Because we have time to sneak back up to the room before the meal," Robb mentioned and Isabelle shook her head, moving to grab his chin and force him to look at her. She cocked a brow and shook her head.

"You're incorrigible," she complained and Robb smirked, kissing her forehead and taking her answer as a no. "Besides, don't try anything in here. People already look at every woman as though she is a whore for them to use when they so please."

"I would let them nowhere near you," Robb assured her.

It was only then when he noted two familiar figures sat in the corner of the room, staring blatantly at him. He had picked his cup up and held it to his lips before their eyes had met. Shaking his head, Robb placed his cup down and urgently took hold of Isabelle's hand.

"What is it?" she worried and Robb made to stand up.

"Black Walder and Lothar Walder," Robb whispered into her ear.

She stood to her feet and Robb soon followed; his hand on the small of her back to push her out of the inn. She wondered whether or not they meant to cause them any harm, but it was clear that Robb would not wait to find out. He dragged her to the stables, grabbing a sword which rested on the floor there before noting that their horses were at the far end of the stables.

"The King in the North."

Isabelle gripped tightly onto Robb's hands as the two men stood tall and looked at the couple who were trying to escape.

"My Lords," Robb responded.

He knew that it would be a waste of time for him to even try to lie to them. They knew who he was and he knew who they were. He kept silent for a few moments, making sure Isabelle stood behind him as he kept a firm grip on his sword.

"We thought you dead," Black Walder spoke and Robb shook his head back and forth.

"No," Robb shook his head. "Almost dead, but not quite. I am sorry to disappoint."

"Then you should have trouble returning to your wife. I am afraid that she has not been well recently. Some form of illness has taken hold of her. No doubt she will be glad that her husband is safe and well."

"And why are you here?" Robb wondered. "Should you not be at the Twins?"

"We are on our way North," Lothar said. "We intend to find out just what is happening, but we would be more than happy to take you back to the Twins."

Rolling his eyes, Robb turned on his heel and quickly grabbed Isabelle's waist, hauling her onto the horse before untying it from the post.

"I have no intention of killing you, but I have no intention of returning to the Twins," Robb informed them. "So you shall stand aside and allow us to leave."

It was then when they drew their swords. Isabelle shook her head as Robb took his sword from the floor again and held it tightly in his hands. Isabelle jumped back down from the horse as the sound of clashing swords echoed through her ears. She looked around for a weapon as Robb dodged the swords and lashed at them with his. It was only then when Isabelle noted that she had no need to aid Robb.

The two bodies of Lothar and Black Walder lay on the floor. Isabelle saw Robb toss his bloodied sword to the side and she rushed to him, her hand clutching his elbow and forcing him to face her.

"Did they hurt you?" she worried. "Robb-"

"-No", he promised her, his hands cradling her face, "they had no choice...I did not want to kill them...but..."

"You did what you had to," she promised him, kissing his cheek and Robb nodded, comforting himself with that face. They would have killed him or he would have killed them.

"We need to go," Robb hastily spoke. "I do not need more Frey men turning up here."

"But Mary-"

"-They cannot be associated with us now," Robb shook his head, helping Isabelle onto the horse once again. "We need to leave...we cannot hurt them...or see them hurt..."

"Yes," Isabelle agreed, Robb climbing onto the horse to sit in front of her.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, looking down to the two dead bodies as they passed. It was only then when she wondered how much more blood had to be shed before it was all over.

...

A/N: Thank you to CLTex, xxxRena, DarylDixon'sLover, Kate, ZabuzasGirl, Sea19, YouAreMyRevolution for reviewing the previous chapter. Please do let me know what you think.


	48. Chapter 48

"Fire prevailed," Robb informed Isabelle as he took to her side once more.

They had been travelling for days and had heard no word from anyone. They knew that leaving Colin, Mary and Boris had been for the best, but it still tore at them to know that they had gone without a word. Robb still carried four coins on him that they had given to him and he had used them in an inn one evening when Isabelle finally caved and complained of hunger. He had bought a chicken and a jug of water to the table and Isabelle had devoured into the chicken unlike the lady she was raised to be.

"What?" she wondered and Robb noticed how she downed the water.

"Daenerys travels South now," he continued. "She defeated the White Walkers and now she makes her way to King's Landing to overthrow what little power the Lannisters hold. Ser Jaime managed to escape with his life. He is now acting as Lord of Casterly Rock. His brother has not been seen and his sister is suffering for her crimes. The Lannisters will lose."

"And what do you propose we do?" Isabelle asked and Robb ran a hand over his bearded chin.

"We travel to King's Landing and demand an audience with the Queen. Winterfell may be ashes, but I am still its lord."

"And Walder Frey?"

"Walder Frey can go and jump off of his bridge if he so wishes," Robb muttered and Isabelle cocked a brow. "What power will Walder Frey have without the backing of the Lannisters? No one can trust him and no one will rally to his side."

"He will want revenge on you," Isabelle said. "He planned a wedding so that he could massacre your men. He is twisted and when he learns that you killed his sons he will be even more hell bent on revenge."

"He will not know that I killed his sons," Robb retorted to her. "Everyone presumes me dead at this moment in time. We shall be safe. I promise you, Isabelle. We ride for King's Landing at first light."

"We have nothing to lose by it," Isabelle shrugged and then she recalled her time in King's Landing.

She remembered the eunuch who had given her the warning about Robb's potential death. Perhaps he could persuade the soon to be Queen to speak with the young couple? Perhaps he could sing a sweet song in her ear and help them? Isabelle did not know, but it was worth a try. She would write to Lord Varys on the morrow.

"I managed to secure a room," Robb said. "But we have no money left."

"So that means sleeping under trees," Isabelle stated, although it was no complaint.

"I know," Robb replied. "I wish that I could give you so much more, Isabelle. I wish that it could be different."

"And it will be," she replied, longing for Robb not to dwell on what could have potentially been. She picked the chicken up again and held it to her lips as Robb also picked a piece up and ate it quickly. He licked his fingers and Isabelle watched him with a cocked brow.

"Did your mother not teach you table etiquette?" she wondered and Robb looked around the inn as men drunk and sat with half naked women on their laps.

"We are in a inn come whorehouse, and you remind me about etiquette?" he checked with her, a smile on his face as he did so.

How Isabelle loved to see that smile. She loved to see him carefree and teasing. He had shouldered responsibility for far too long. A part of Isabelle knew that she would not mind marrying Robb in secret and posing as a farmer and his wife. She had no doubt that they would be as content as Mary and Boris were. But Isabelle knew Robb all too well. She knew that he considered it his duty to go back to Winterfell and make sure that it was rebuilt and restored to its former glory.

"You will have to remember your etiquette if you are to be Lord of Winterfell," she reminded him.

"As will you," Robb said, noting that a piece of chicken skin had dropped onto the front of her gown. He picked it up and tossed it back to the plate. "You are to be Lady of Winterfell."

"And do you think Roose Bolton will be happy about that? The Dreadfort is but a few days ride from Winterfell. He could do something cruel."

"I doubt it," Robb scoffed. "He knows that you are young and fertile. More importantly he knows that you are a widow. You are free to marry again. You did not kill his bastard."

"I lured him away from the Dreadfort," Isabelle muttered.

"But you did not kill him," Robb repeated. "It matters not. I would have Roose Bolton's head for his betrayal to me along with Walder Frey."

"You need to have the backing of the Queen before that," Isabelle reminded him.

"I shall," Robb said confidently. "And I shall do what I can to bring my family back to me. It has been too long since I have set my eyes on them. I even miss Sansa and her annoying ways...Arya and her strong will...Jon..."

"I know," Isabelle responded and kissed his cheek.

"But we shall ride for King's Landing," Robb said with determination. "I shall ask to keep my lands and to keep my title. There truly is nothing more that I can do."

"No," Isabelle agreed with him, chewing at the chicken in front of her again. "King's Landing is very different to Winterfell. The climate is much more favourable. I could never imagine wandering the streets without a cloak when I was in Winterfell. The houses are so compact and together...and the Red Keep is unlike anything you have seen before."

"And did you enjoy your time there?" Robb asked.

"Of course not," Isabelle replied as though it were obvious. "I ran because there was nowhere left to go. Talia and I had considered sailing across the Narrow Sea to somewhere exotic, but I never could go. I think I held onto the hope that I could be with you some day...I looked at the ships often enough, but I could never bring myself to board one."

"I am glad," Robb affectionately pushed her hair behind her shoulder and curled his hand around her neck softly. "I would have sailed after you, but it would have made my life much more difficult."

"And mine too," Isabelle replied and kissed him once more before they began to eat their dinner in peace.

...

Robb knew that he was out of place in King's Landing. Never before had he looked so lost and sheepish. He kept hold of Isabelle's hand as they stood amongst the crowds of people. The official crowning of Queen Daenerys had yet to take place, but the Queen was accepting her subjects' offers of thanks and their concerns. She knew how important it was to put their worries to bed.

Robb and Isabelle stood at the back of the queue which ran all the way out of the castle. They knew that they had to be patient should they be able to gain an audience with the soon to be Queen. But Isabelle had kept her eye on a plump, bald man who wandered the queues, his eyes clearly searching for someone.

It was only when his gaze met hers did he smirk and she did the same. Robb looked confused for a second before recalling what Isabelle had said to him. She had mentioned Lord Varys and how she knew that she could trust him.

"My Lady Eleanor," Varys inclined his head once he saw her.

He still held his hands in his sleeves and his eyes were wide and caring.

"Isabelle," she corrected him. "And I am pleased to see that you are unhurt, Lord Varys. I had prayed for your safety when I heard that Queen Daenerys was marching to King's Landing."

"You and I both, Lady Isabelle," he replied. "And this must be the Lord of Winterfell."

"Oh, yes," Isabelle said. "Robb, this is Lord Varys."

"Pleasure," Robb nodded his head briefly.

It was only then when Varys took in the couple's appearance. They stood before him in dirtied clothes, ill fitting garments and scuffed boots. They hardly looked like nobility.

"You shall have to tell me how you came to find yourselves in such a state," Varys spoke. "But your previous letter asked of my health and whether the Queen would annul Robb Stark's marriage. I am afraid that I have yet to speak with the Queen alone, but I am sure I can grant you a private audience if you would follow me to the small council chamber."

"And why has the Queen kept you with her?" Robb suddenly asked and Isabelle was about to hit his arm for his rudeness before Varys cut in and answered.

"Did you honestly think that I would sit by idle and watch the rightful Queen suffer in her journey to King's Landing?" Varys asked. "I fed her information when the time arose. I helped Tyrion Lannister to escape and join her in her quest. She spares me because I have proven myself useful. It is something us common people must do if we are to succeed."

"I apologise for Robb's bluntness," Isabelle quickly spoke. "Are you certain she shall grant us a private audience?"

"Oh, most definitely," Vary said. "She will be fond to hear from the King in the North himself."

Isabelle watched as Varys turned away, clearly expecting them to follow him. She took Robb by the hand and led him away from the crowd, both of them exchanging a hesitant glance at the other as they went to wait for Queen Daenerys to grant them her presence.

...

A/N: thank you to xxxRena, CLTex, ZabuzasGirl and DarylDixon'sLover for reviewing. Do let me know what you think!


	49. Chapter 49

"And this is the King in the North."

Robb held his head high as he looked to the Queen in front of him. He had not seen the Iron Throne before, but here it stood. The chair looked uncomfortable and cold. It was everything that Robb had never wanted as a King. The masses of people had been seen to by the Queen, but Robb and Isabelle had waited until last to have their queries aired.

"Was," Robb responded in a gruff voice.

He remained still, Isabelle clutching tightly to his arm with her eyes closed. She was dreading what was about to happen them. The Queen Daenerys was a beautiful woman: there was no denying that. She had long platinum hair which hung down her waist; her skin was as pale as snow, and her eyes vividly alive.

"The Northern half of the Kingdom is yours, my Queen," Robb continued. "I only ask for Winterfell to be restored so that I can take up my rightful place as Lord of Winterfell."

"Your father fought against my father. How do I know that I can trust House Stark again?" Daenerys wondered.

"That was a long time ago," Robb replied. "My father's sister had been stolen from him. He did what he could to bring her back. He never asked for your family to be harmed."

Daenerys remained silent, shifting in her seat slightly. Robb was grateful that the Throne Room was empty. He did not need anyone else to question what he said. Robb had not been there during Robert's Rebellion. He could not be held responsible for what happened that day. He would not be held responsible.

"I was but a babe during that time." Robb said. "If everyone was held responsible for their parents' actions then the world would not be a good place."

Daenerys could not help but agree with him on that matter. He did speak some sense to her. She leant forwards in the chair and wondered what had happened to the couple in front of her. They looked nothing like royalty to her.

"And would you ask anything else of me?"

"Yes, my Queen," Robb continued and Daenerys cocked a brow. "I am wed to a lady from House Frey. I would ask for you to annul my marriage and have House Frey served justice for the crimes which they committed...along with House Bolton."

"And why would I do that?"

"House Frey and House Bolton plotted to murder me during a wedding feast. They betrayed my trust and cost me the war."

"And why did they plot this?" Daenerys continued.

"Because they thought that I was disloyal to them. I...Isabelle was married to Lord Bolton's bastard, but I fell in love with her. They thought that I had intended to run away with her and decided to push me."

"And were there concerns based on a true story?"

"No," Isabelle spoke. "Yes, I married Lord Bolton's bastard, but I was a girl of fifteen. I...Ramsay Snow...he was a cruel man, but he was my husband. I tried to do my best by him, but I did not know what more I could do. I faked my own death and escaped to Winterfell where I fell in love with Robb. I posed as a serving maid and he never knew my true identity. It was only when the war commenced my husband found out of my betrayal. He ordered for me to be returned to him."

Daenerys did her best to keep up with the story. Robb looked down to Isabelle and moved his hand down to squeeze hold of hers. She smiled up to him softly and Robb kept his lips in a firm line.

"And what had he done that was so bad for you to have ran from him?"

Isabelle shook her head. She could only show the girl and hope for mercy. Turning around, Isabelle pulled at the laces to her dress and lowering it from her shoulders. She dropped the gown to her waist, revealing her bare form. Robb stood in front of her, shielding her bare breasts from any man who dared to enter the room at that moment.

Daenerys stood up when she saw the scars on the girl's back. They were faint, but there was no doubt that her back had been marred.

"Ramsay took pleasure from flaying people," Isabelle called out and Daenerys stepped down from the Iron Throne. She moved slowly over to her, recalling all of the times she had seen slaves suffer the same fate.

"He flayed me when I begged for him to stop flaying the women in his staff," Isabelle continued. "He didn't take too kindly to that. He flayed me and I lost our child. It was then when I realised that I had to escape him. He used to chase girls into the forest for fun and rape them. It was then when he decided whether to let his hounds eat the girl or take them back to be flayed."

Daenerys moved a hand to run a finger down the scar and Isabelle shuddered.

"When he had me back with him...I promised not to disobey him. I promised that I would be dutiful so that Robb could keep House Bolton's support in the war to bring his family home. Doing that was harder than I had thought." Isabelle spoke. "Robb never wanted to be King in the North. He never wanted to be powerful. He just wanted his family. He wanted his family back safe."

Nodding, Daenerys understood the horror. The worst part was that she could understand the horror. She had seen it herself many times. Robb helped Isabelle dress once more, kissing her brow as Daenerys walked back up to the Iron Throne.

"I am sorry for what you have been through," Daenerys admitted to Isabelle. "Your husband sounded a horrible man."

Isabelle did not want to speak ill of Ramsay anymore. He had occupied conversation more times than she wished to remember. She kept silent for a while, recalling the man Ramsay had become in his final few months. Had she made him a better person? Had she done that? Isabelle did not know, and she did not want to dwell on it.

"I would protect the North for you, my Queen," Robb promised her suddenly. "I only ask that House Frey and House Bolton be punished."

"Yes," Daenerys mumbled. "I would have to speak with my advisors before I did anything. Why do you see them as a threat to you?"

"Walder Frey is a prickly man," Robb said. "I do not doubt he will try to have me killed in his sleep if my marriage is annulled."

"I should speak with this Walder Frey. He did not send men to help my cause...nor did House Bolton..."

"They are Lannister men," Robb responded. "I doubt that they would help, my Queen. I would have...but...I had no men...I had nothing...but the woman I wish to marry should you permit me it."

Daenerys dropped her hands to her lap and she nodded at Robb. She kept silent before standing and looking down with a kind and soft expression.

"Your tale seems a long one and I do believe there is more to it. I should like to hear of it...but I can grant that it would cause you distress."

"Ramsay has died," Isabelle said. "He died less than a moon ago when the Brotherhood without Banners encountered him. He can cause me no more pain. I will not allow him to do so."

"I am glad to hear that," Daenerys genuinely spoke. "Please, rest here this evening. I do believe you need a good night's rest. And I did acquire someone who may be of interest to you on my way here."

"Who?" Robb wondered.

Daenerys nodded to one of her unsullied guards. The door at the side of the Throne Room opened and a tall girl hesitantly walked in. Isabelle looked confused for a moment before she recognised the girl. Robb did the same, his orbs widening and then a small gasp escaping his smiling lips. The red haired girl looked older than when Robb had seen her last. Her face was pale and long, but she had his mother's looks. Black hairs covered the end of her hair, but her red hair shined through.

"Sansa," Robb spoke her name and Isabelle let him go, her hand urging him forward on his shoulder.

His sister picked her skirts up and ran; her smile quivering as she began to sob at the sight of her brother. She had never been so happy to see him before. Robb swept Sansa into his arms, holding her tightly to him as she clasped her hands around his neck. She buried her head into his shoulder.

"Robb...you're really here...Robb..." she continued to cry and Robb pulled back to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"I am here, Sansa," he promised her. "You're not alone now."

Pulling back, Sansa smiled to him, joy overwhelming him. He didn't say anything as Sansa looked to Isabelle, unable to believe who she was. She had heard the rumours of her brother and the future Lady of the Dreadfort. But here she stood. Sansa remembered the maid from Winterfell. She had noted how she always looked at her brother, but she never thought anything of it.

"Sansa, this is Isabelle. Do you remember Isabelle?"

"Of course," Sansa nodded. "But is she not...well..."

"Eleanor of House Bolton," Isabelle answered for her. "My husband died and I am widowed...but it is good to see you again, Lady Sansa. I am glad you are safe."

"Yes...you too...Lady..." Sansa trailed off, not too sure how she was supposed to address her.

Robb smiled at the endearing awkwardness before taking Isabelle's hand and holding it tightly in his again. Sansa latched onto his arm and they all looked to Daenerys again.

"I am happy to have reunited you with your family," Daenerys decreed. "One of my guards shall lead you to a guest chamber. You can spend the night there whilst I think of your wishes and do my best to see them through for you."

"Thank you, my Queen," Robb inclined his head and Sansa and Isabelle curtseyed before Daenerys excused herself from the room.

Isabelle watched as Robb hugged his sister in a one armed hug. Now all he needed was to bring the rest of his family home. Only then would he be complete again.

...

A/N: Thank you to Dark G0ddess, danceegirl92, Meme, xxxRena and DarylDixon'sLover for reviewing. Do let me know what you think so far!


	50. Chapter 50

Winterfell was ruins. Isabelle had never seen anything look so morbid in her life. Robb had been granted leave from King's Landing with his sister and Isabelle. Daenerys had annulled his marriage, but she had told him that she would speak to Lord Frey personally. Lord Bolton had sent his congratulations and commiserations to Isabelle. She had written back and he had replied to inform her that he had no intention of taking revenge against her for anything she had done.

His bastard had died and there was nothing more to the matter now.

He was a cold man, but he was no fool. He knew she had the Queen's backing and he had no intention of going against a woman with three dragons.

"Come on, Lady Sansa," Isabelle said as Robb began to speak with the men who had not abandoned Winterfell.

They had feebly attempted to rebuild it, but they were getting nowhere fast. Sansa had looked downtrodden at the sight of her home. It was nothing like she remembered. Isabelle had patted Robb on the shoulder and then walked with Sansa through the ruins and towards the Godswood. Surely her husband had left that intact.

"Did your husband burn Winterfell down?" Sansa asked and Isabelle bit her cheek and nodded.

She settled down on the bench near the small pond and Sansa took a seat next to her. The red head kept silent for a few moments as Isabelle leant forwards and clasped her hands together. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, thinking about the expression of Robb's face once he had seen his castle. It was scarcely a castle anymore. The men had managed to rebuild parts of it, but it was a haphazard job.

"I should have stopped him," Isabelle shook her head. "I owed Robb that much."

"No," Sansa shook her head. "You know what your husband would have done to you...I heard you and Robb speaking one night...I did not mean to pry..."

"What did you hear?" Isabelle wondered.

Robb had spent many nights consoling Isabelle when she awoke from a bad dream. Her screams haunted him and he didn't know how he could console her sometimes. He would hold her to him, but he never could stop the nightmares; only time would do that, but he was willing to wait.

"I heard you screaming one night," Sansa spoke. "I stood outside the tent to make sure you were safe, but Robb was there with you. He...well...I heard about what he did when you miscarried your babe..."

"Ah," Isabelle muttered.

"But I never meant to be rude."

"It is fine, Lady Sansa," Isabelle promised her. "I am now more concerned for Robb. He has a lot of weight on his shoulders...weight which Ramsay has put there for him..."

"But Robb will cope," Sansa said with a determined nod. "And shouldn't we stop being so formal? You are going to marry Robb, aren't you?"

"One day," Isabelle replied. "It is hard to forget titles sometimes."

"But you are a lady too," Sansa responded. "Although I wouldn't mind not being called a lady. It doesn't bother me really. I'm just happy that Robb found me...and mother might still be alive somewhere with Bran and Rickon."

"I am sure they shall be," Isabelle promised and dared to rest her hand on Sansa's arm.

It was only then when the young girl dared to speak her mind. She suspected Isabelle wouldn't mind. The two of them had been pleasant and she had shown no hostility towards her. It was only by chance that Sansa knew the signs she had seen. She had been subtle, but she had noticed them. She was shocked that Robb had no idea.

"Can I ask you something?" Sansa wondered and Isabelle nodded. "When was the last time you had your moon's blood?"

Widening orbs greeted Sansa and Isabelle cocked her head to the side as the young girl looked to her lap and shrugged.

"I just noticed on the way here that you were eating a lot more with each passing day...and...well...your dress scarcely covers your chest..."

Looking down, Isabelle was shocked that she had not noticed her breasts were practically hanging out of her gown. She dropped a hand to her stomach, wondering what Sansa had been taught about pregnancy. She closed her eyes for a second and shook her head. She hadn't had her moon's blood in weeks. The last time had been when she was still with Ramsay.

"Oh Gods," Isabelle whispered as she tried to do the math. "It's not his...it couldn't be..."

"It isn't Robb's?" Sansa looked scandalised for a moment and Isabelle shook her head.

"It has to be Robb's," she replied. "It cannot be his...no...the last time we slept together was...Gods..."

"Do you not know the father?" Sansa wondered and Isabelle looked concerned.

She shook her head slowly and felt her feet give out underneath her once she tried to stand and pace. She collapsed back against the stone bench and her back hit the tree behind her. She pressed a hand to her mouth and knew that she should have done everything in her power to drink moon tea when she was still with Ramsay. It had been impossible, of course. He knew everything that she did and he controlled everything that she did too. She stifled a small sob and Sansa stood up, knowing that she had to find Robb.

Isabelle barely noticed her go, but she did notice Robb when he came to her. He knelt on the ground in front of her and saw her tears. Lifting his hands to her face, he cradled her cheeks in his palms and she pressed her fingers to his wrists, wrapping them around his skin.

"What is the matter? Sansa told me that you were upset?"

"Oh Gods," Isabelle muttered, knowing that she had no other option but to tell him the truth. "I don't know what to do, Robb. I don't want you to hate me...please...just don't hate me..."

"I could never hate you," Robb said, his voice stern and low as he moved to sit next to her then, still holding her face in his hands as he did so. She kept silent for a few moments as Robb waited for her to explain.

"I think I might be pregnant," she whispered in a small voice and a smile moved to Robb's face at the news.

But Isabelle continued to sob. He wondered why, but it didn't take a genius to know why. His smile soon disappeared as he pieced the picture, unable to stop himself from thinking of what he could have done to Isabelle. She was worried that the babe might be half her and half Ramsay.

Robb gulped and thought of that, looking away from her as she continued to sob. She noted how he turned his back on her and fear once again took hold of her. She clawed at his back, her hands gripping his shoulders as she tried to force him to look at her. He did so, sensing her urgency and his hands grabbed hers.

"Don't do that," she begged him, her cheeks red from crying and hurt. "Don't turn away from me...please...don't abandon me...I don't know, Robb...I don't know if you or the father or if Ramsay is...I shouldn't have been such a whore...I shouldn't have let you spill your seed inside of me...I should have had moon tea..."

"Isabelle," Robb said her name stiffly. "You are no whore."

"But I don't know whether the babe is yours...and if it is not...what if it is like him? Looks like him? I can't do it...the reminder..."

"Listen to me," Robb demanded her before she managed to hyperventilate again. "You once said to me that you were certain Ramsay was not born evil. You told me that you didn't think any babe could be born evil. You said that."

"I know." She mumbled.

"Then this babe shall be no different," Robb spoke, his voice harsh to try and make her see sense. "Whatever happens, this babe is half you...and it will have you as a mother...and you will be the best mother it could ever hope for. He will not corrupt you anymore, Isabelle...nor shall this babe..."

"And you?" Isabelle worried from him. "If the babe does not resemble you? Would you love it?"

Grounding his teeth together, Robb imagined a babe with Ramsay's menacing stare and evil grey eyes. He looked away from Isabelle and that was the only answer which she needed. Robb could not love a child which resembled Ramsay. She could not blame him, but she did not want for the child to be a bastard. She was utterly at a loss for words.

"You should go back to the castle," Isabelle said and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

He could sense the haughty tone inside of her, but he did nothing to argue with her about it.

"Isabelle," he complained. "Asking me to love a babe which is not mine...a product of rape...a child from him..."

"Like your mother never loved Jon Snow?"

"Jon Snow's mother never forced herself onto my father, nor did she ever make his life a misery or flay people for sport," Robb quickly snapped back to her. "You shall keep the babe and only time shall tell who is the father of it...and if I am then I would be much more delighted than you could imagine...but if not...I shall try my best. I shall try for you, Isabelle."

What more could she want for him? She could ask nothing more but for him to try and to stay with her. She didn't want him to abandon her. After being alone for so long, she didn't think she could be alone ever again.

"Robb! Robb! It is mother! Bannermen are approaching!"

Sansa's voice echoed through the Godswood and Robb stood up whilst Isabelle remained seated, her mind still elsewhere and away from what Sansa had just shouted to them. She kept still as Sansa stood before them.

"You need to come. She shall be here soon. The Stark banner flies, Robb," Sansa's voice was giddy with glee as Robb nodded to her.

"I am coming," he said, relief flowing through his veins. He turned his head over his shoulder to look to Isabelle patiently. "Isabelle, are you coming?"

"No...you go...I will be there in a minute..."

She continued to wipe at her eyes and Robb watched her. Sansa scurried off again and Robb remained stood and staring at the woman he wanted to make his wife soon enough. He bent down to kiss the top of her head, doing his best to reassure her that he would not abandon her. She kept her gaze lowered as Robb turned and left her alone to pray to the Old Gods. She only hoped they would answer her prayers.

...

A/N: Thank you to CLTex, ZabuzasGirl, xxxRena and DarylDixon'sLover for reviewing


	51. Chapter 51

Being face to face with Lady Stark did nothing but fill Isabelle with anger, especially when she made her snide comment about Isabelle and how she should not have slept with two men at the same time. Isabelle had ignored her when she noted Talia stood behind her. Theon was next to her, stood tall with Talia dangling off of his arm. The handmaiden met Isabelle's stare and Isabelle ignored Lady Stark as she complained to her son. Isabelle wrapped Talia into her arms, relief coursing through her veins.

She even offered Theon an embrace.

"I was so worried about you, Isabelle," Talia said. "We were hiding by the Wall for months before we heard what had happened. Ramsay managed to capture you again and then he died."

"But you may not be free from him," Lady Stark said and Isabelle closed her eyes as Theon rested a hand on her shoulder in a feeble attempt to be reassuring. "My son cannot raise a bastard."

"The babe would not be a bastard," Isabelle said and turned on her heel to look at Lady Stark. "I am a widow and if the babe is Ramsay's then it would be no bastard. It was not conceived out of wed lock."

Nodding, Robb agreed with her on that matter. He did not need his mother upsetting Isabelle when it had taken her all of her might to leave the Godswood and come to greet her.

"And your marriage with Roslin has been annulled? You cannot marry Isabelle, Robb. If she has his child then-"

"-You have tried to find a reason for me not to marry your son for months now," Isabelle interrupted her, knowing that her foul mood was overtaking her. "Can you not be happy that we love each other? The war is done. Ramsay is dead. House Bolton fails to care about House Stark and House Frey is being seen to by Queen Daenerys. But even now you are still trying to find a reason as to why I should not marry Robb."

"Can you blame me?" Catelyn wondered back from the girl and Robb stood next to Isabelle, his hand on the small of her back as he tried to get her to calm down. "You have risked his life so many times and now you do not know whose child you carry. You have done nothing but make his life difficult. Perhaps you will understand when you are a mother, but for now you do not know anything."

Talia looked to Theon and he shook his head at her, urging her not to involve herself in their conversation. He didn't want her to face the wrath of Lady Stark. He kept silent whilst Isabelle glowered and felt tears prickle in her eyes as Robb did nothing to defend her. He bowed his head and Isabelle knew that it was unfair for her to make him pick a side between her and his mother, but a part of her wanted that. A part of her wanted him to promise her that she had not hurt him.

Rolling her eyes, she picked her skirts up and began to storm off without another word.

"Leave her," Catelyn urged her son as he let out a loud sigh and contemplated going after her as she made her way back into the Godswood. "She always has been temperamental."

"And you have always enjoyed being rude to her," Robb replied. "She is to be my wife and she is to be Lady of Winterfell. I do not care about anything else. I have waited too long for this moment for it to be ruined now."

Catelyn pursed her lips as Robb moved from the congregation and followed Isabelle back into the Godswood. He kept his distance to begin with, watching as his wife knelt by the small pond and peered into its depths, speaking to herself.

"Do you truly hate me?" she wondered. "What have I done to make the Gods hate me so? I tried to do my duty. I tried to be his wife, but he was cruel and did not love me. Do you honestly wish to punish me with his child? Is that what you intend to do? Ramsay has gone...please...I tried to be a good wife...I tried...please just let it end...I beg of you...please..."

Robb kept hidden behind a tree as he left his wife to pray in silence. And she did pray. She prayed for the following nine months every morning until the time came for her to birth the child.

...

Isabelle's stomach swelled and bulged out past her feet. She could scarcely wander around Winterfell without feeling tired and sick. The morning sickness had been the worst for her. She had done her best to do everything the new maester Talisa asked her to do, but the sickness still appeared. Winterfell had slowly been rebuilt and even Jon Snow had come to visit. Robb had allowed Theon to stay at the castle, but he was still looked at with anger.

Only Talia looked at him with understanding and love.

Bran and Rickon had returned in Isabelle's fifth month of pregnancy just as Winterfell's grand towers were in the process of being rebuilt. Arya Stark had been spotted across the Narrow Sea according to a raven from Lord Varys who had seen to it that Queen Daenerys had punished House Frey and nearly left them with no money or bannermen.

"The babe should be ready in a couple of days, I suspect," Talisa said as she helped Isabelle to place her robe over her body. She noted how a cold sweat had broken out on her pale face and how her body was covered in stretch marks.

"Good," Isabelle complained, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Robb has scarcely touched me since I outgrew all of my gowns."

"It is not proper for a lord to touch a widowed lady," Talisa reminded her. "You two are not yet married."

"We shall be soon enough," Isabelle said. "That is if he even wants to marry me."

Talisa folded her hands into her blue skirts and sat down next to Isabelle on the bed, looking at the deflated girl as she spoke of Robb with such longing.

"He loves you. He is just stressed with everything." Talisa promised her. "Besides, I am sure he does wish to touch you. It is difficult for him...not knowing whether the babe is his...there is one way he could help induce your labour. Apparently making love helps."

"Convincing him to do that would be a miracle," Isabelle scoffed and she crawled back into bed as Talisa smirked and considered her challenge accepted.

...

Isabelle had not moved from bed that day when Robb came to her chamber. He found her laid under the covers with nothing on. She was always warm and sweating, even when the cold was bitter and painful outside. He closed the door and Isabelle sat up with the sheet on her body to cover herself from him.

"I have not seen you in days," she spoke and Robb sniffed and looked away from her awkwardly.

Things had been difficult since she had grown larger. Her stomach was just a constant reminder that she was carrying an unknown child. It had been harder than Robb had thought. But Talisa had gone to him and scolded him. She had told him that he should love Isabelle despite everything and that she felt as though she was ugly to him now.

"I have been busy," Robb said, "but Talisa said that you might need help."

"Oh?" Isabelle wondered and Robb ran a hand over his beard covered chin as Isabelle recognised his awkward gaze. "Oh," she said more flatly this time. "Don't worry, Robb, I don't want you to fuck me. You have hardly been able to look at me, never mind touch me."

"Don't be like that," Robb urged her and sat down on the edge of the bed. "It has been hard to see you like this and to know that it might not be my child inside of you."

"You look at me as though I repulse you. When was the last time you kissed me or even looked me in the eye?"

He looked her in the eye then and noted that she was angry with him. She didn't want to be, but she was. It was not his fault. She should have known how difficult this would be for him. But Robb gulped then. He knew that he had abandoned her when she was vulnerable. He had made her feel worthless and that was not what he wanted. He moved slowly and ran his hand over the top of her sheet before slowly pulling it away from her to reveal her bloomed figure.

He kept his eyes on her as he allowed his eyes to move over her large breasts and her round stomach.

"Do you know how much I do want you, Isabelle?" Robb asked her, slowly crawling over her and whispering in her ear. "I pleasure myself every night by remembering when I had you the first time."

"You could have me," she whispered back. "You do have me, Robb. I am still me...regardless of the babe..."

"I know," he gulped lowly. "And...if you want me then you can have me..."

"And do you want me?" Isabelle wondered and Robb closed his eyes and kissed her deeply, remembering what it felt like to have her lips against his.

"More than you can ever know," he promised her, trying to forget how difficult things had been between them. "But I do not know if I can fuck you...how can I? I mean..."

"There are other ways," Isabelle whispered and moved to straddle him and pull his breeches from his legs to his ankles.

Robb looked up to her and she kept silent as she found that he was already hard. His hands moved over the swell of her stomach to her breasts, groping at them. Isabelle moaned loudly then, the wanton sound echoing through her chamber. Slowly, she settled herself onto Robb and moaned once more as she placed her hands on his stomach for support.

Robb watched her as she moved up and down, moaning as she did so. He did the same, tilting his hips to meet her pace before he spilled his seed inside of her and she continued to move until she fell to pieces too. She kept him inside of her as she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.

"That was quick."

"I think we were both too eager," she muttered back and Robb nodded and stroked her hair from her face. "It has been a long time."

"That it has," Robb said and Isabelle closed her eyes. "And I am sorry for that...from now on...we will talk to each other...and not abandon each other...ever again..."

"Agreed."

...

A/N: Thanks to everyone reading and please do let me know what you think.


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